


Monster

by TheBloodyWhiteWolfxoxo



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pack Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 68
Words: 291,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBloodyWhiteWolfxoxo/pseuds/TheBloodyWhiteWolfxoxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm nothing but a monster burning in a hell that only exists in my head. There's no hope left until one harmless glance chances logic and binds two eternal enemies together in a twist of fate. Can the escape from this hell be found in an infuriating dimpled grin? Or is this another dark, dirty trick of my own mind? A forbidden passion, heat, and intense anger—this is no fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold

**Author's Note:**

> [Disclaimer: Monster is an originally plotted fic. The ideas within this fic are not to be copied in any way, shape, or form—I have not given my consent to any manner of copying. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of their respective owners. All canon concepts and characters are the property of the Twilight Saga's author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. Similarities are for the sole use of fan fiction, and no profit has been or will be benefited from the posting of this fic.]

**[A/N** : This is part one of  _Monster_. Part one follows the main character's development through twenty chapters set in her early years before the beginning of the fic. Part one is rated T for mild language and violent content.

While reading, please keep in mind that  _Monster_  focuses on the darker side of the Twilight universe and its affect on those who had been born into the supernatural world. I don't guarantee the story that lies ahead will be pretty. I provide necessary warnings, so nothing should come as a shock. Feel free to proceed with or without caution, and please do enjoy. =) **]**

* * *

This isn't a fucking fairytale.  
It's a hell that never stops burning.

This is the world of demons  
and the monsters who kill them.

This is the world where reality disappears at sundown  
and even the innocence of love is cursed.

Here, no one is anything more  
than the beast buried deep in their veins.

This is a game of who can keep their head together  
for a little while longer.

Hell is never pretty.  
Especially when your prey becomes  
the air you breathe.

In the end, victory isn't finding a happy ever after.  
Victory  
is making it out alive.

**~:~**

**Monster**

**PART I - Pre-Twilight.**

**~:~**

_"When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful,  
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical."_ - Supertramp.

* * *

Chapter One

Cold

_December 24th, 1994._

* * *

"Once upon a time, there was a wolf. The wolf was a  _very_ fascinating creature. He was the wisest of his five siblings, stronger than all of them and the most handsome. In fact, this wolf was the best wolf out of all of his brethren. Still, the wolf did not carry himself with pride. He walked with an important duty resting on his shoulders. It was the duty to protect his brothers, his tribe and his children who would grow and die long after he had passed.

"The wolf was powerful enough to take down even the strongest of creatures living on this planet, yet he did not brag about this power. He did not use his power to gain control, attention, or even to command respect of those he protected. Instead, the wolf used his strength to shield his family from the red-eyed monsters that had haunted his people for centuries.

"After many years, when the wolf's bones had grown too weak for him to continue, the wolf passed on to the next life. However, the spirit of the wolf continued to walk the earth. He passed his power down to his sons. From son to son, grandson to grandson, the wolf's power still lives. The wolves secured the same land, protecting their tribe from the red-eyed monsters they called 'Cold Ones.'

"Today, most people still live in fear of the monsters lurking amongst them. However, the people of the tribe can rest in peace, knowing that no matter what, the wolves will always be there to protect them."

With a pearly white smile, my daddy—Bradley Uley—stood. His tan skin and black hair gleamed in the bright room, causing me to stare in awe, still mystified by his tale. He leaned down, gently kissing my sister and me on the head. While looking at us adoringly with his warm, chocolate-brown eyes, he closed his tale with two simple words.

"The end."

The story was nice, but it had ended much too quickly. I kicked my small feet in protest. "No, no! Tell us more stories about the tribe! And the wolfs!  _Pease_ , Daddy? Pease!"

Daddy chuckled and kissed my forehead. When he spoke, his voice was stern, yet soothing at the same time. "Not now, Jordan. It's Christmas Eve—you need your sleep and Santa can't bring presents if you don't get your rest." He paused as he glanced between my older sister and me, both tucked underneath warm quilts and surrounded by pillows. "Both of you."

"Fine den," I mumbled while sliding out of bed and standing with my arms crossed over my white nightgown. "I get Mommy to tell story if you won't, Daddy."

I narrowed my dark blue eyes at him in warning. He shook his head in amusement as if he didn't believe me. With a frown, I marched out of the bedroom with my head held high, only to be carried back in seconds later wrapped in the thin, gentle arms of my mother.

"Always was a little rebel," she murmured softly while she tucked me back into my bed.

"Well," my older sister, Nicole, muttered to herself from across the room. " _I_ think she's just  _stupid_."

My mouth popped open. "Nickle!  _Supid_  is  _mean_!" I fired back at her. She was a year older than me, but she was still  _very_  dumb.

"Is  _not_!"

"Is  _too_!"

"Stupid!"

"Supid  _meanie_!"

Nicole gaped at me and didn't respond. Instead, she snapped her head up to glare expectantly at Mommy and Daddy, waiting for them to punish me. Instead, they glanced at each other, smiling. Mommy laughed.

"Girls, if you keep arguing, Santa won't deliver your presents."

Nicole hushed immediately at Mommy's light warning. She gasped, rolling over while yanking the soft patterned blanket over her head. "I'll be good, I'll be good!" Nicole repeated. The blanket muffled her whispered pleading.

I giggled quietly to myself.

Nicole's head popped out of the blanket, her hair wild from the static friction. She glowered at me with an evil shine in her slanted eyes. "Shouldn't you be  _apologizing_ , Jordan? Or don't you know how?" Her voice was thick with irritation.

"Nah, Santa love me," I reasoned with a shrug.

Nicole blinked, unable to say something back quickly enough. I fell back against my pillow and slid my blanket up towards my content, smiling face.

My parents both grinned and shook their heads at us. Daddy went over to say his goodnights to Nicole while Mommy crossed over to me. She smiled tenderly, her light blue eyes sparkling. She brushed my hair out of my face and slipped the sheets around me the way I liked them—tight and bundled.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Mommy murmured as she kissed my forehead. "Sleep well."

Then Mommy and Daddy swapped places. Daddy caressed my face gently, smiling down at me. He kissed my hair again. His hands, marked with years of labor, positioned my pillow in the way only his hands could. "We'll see you in the morning. Just keep in mind that sleep will make Christmas and Santa come faster!"

"Otay, Daddy." I faked a yawn and smiled when my parents retreated. With another loving smile, Mommy flipped off the lights and blew a kiss at us, disappearing while Daddy shut the door behind her.

Within minutes, both Nicole and I were stationed at our bedroom door. Clutched firmly in each of our trembling russet hands was a plastic toy gun. Daddy told us they were "fake," but I didn't believe him. We would need guns when we did dangerous things like walk around the house in the dark which was, of course,  _extremely_  dangerous.

"Careful!" Nicole hissed in my ear. I ignored her warning and stretched my skinny leg out in front of me, moving into the hall. Nicole's hand caught my arm and yanked me back. "There could be monsters out there!"

"Pease!" I snorted and shoved Nicole back. I peeked down the pitch-black hall once more. "Monsers are under  _bed_! But no scary monser would ebber come eat anybody as supid as  _you_!"

"Ugh, you are so stupid, Jordan! Monsters come at night to eat—they could be  _anywhere_."

I huffed at her comment. I pretended to hesitate for a moment, hoping she'd be quiet. When she fell silent, I glanced down the hall once more. "Fine. No monsers out here. Jus be sure to wook bof ways."

"That's for the road, dummy!" Nicole glared and rolled her eyes when I stuck out my tongue at her.

Nicole brushed by me, carefully placing a foot down on the wooden floor. She winced at the squeak the floor made when she leaned her weight forward. She gulped and tried her best to look brave. I watched Nicole's icy eyes turn fearful. I tugged on her arm, smiling at how scared my older sister was acting. Ignoring my pull, she proceeded to move quickly down the hall, dragging me with her.

I quickly grew annoyed. My eyebrows crinkled, puckering my expression. I did my best to hide my annoyance with a deep breath. My eyes squinted, straining to see down the dark hall. Heat prickled down my spine. All I could see was the brilliant white walls and the shiny floor; everything else was washed with black, as if a curtain had been thrown over the hall. When my eyes darted around, I realized how still the house was. My hand tightened around my gun.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Nicole standing stiffly next to me. The tiny hint of wariness passed. I allowed my smile to return. I puffed out my chest before I crept carefully in front Nicole, who was nearly stomping down the hall as she tried to take the lead again.

"Me first!" I grumbled, pushing Nicole into the wall with a quiet  _thump_.

"Shut up, Jordan. I'm older.  _Me_ first." Nicole spat, as if  _I_  was the one making all the noise. She shoved at my shoulder before taking the lead again.

I stomped my foot. "Butthead!" I clamped my hands over my mouth at the blaring sound of my voice.

Nicole gasped, whipping around to glare at me nastily. I couldn't help but giggle into my palm. Thankfully, the sound pierced the heavy tension clouding over us. Nicole turned, nose in the air, and started to slink down the hall once again. I gave a small huff and followed after her until the plush feeling of carpet replaced the firm feel of tile beneath my bunny slippers.

Riddled with excitement, both of us began to pick up our pace until we were practically racing down the last stretch of hallway. Our steps fell at the exact same moment, almost as if our movements were perfectly choreographed. Our slippers squeaked against the floor when they cleared the distance between us and our final destination: the dining room. I gave my sister a final shove, forcing her back while I rounded the corner first.

What I saw left me standing in bewildered awe. I froze, my eyes widening. I didn't even care as Nicole plowed into me, grumbling angrily. Actually, I was so amazed by the sight that I didn't notice at all.

My sister mirrored me, staring up at the twinkling monument above us. I tilted my head backward in order to gaze at the excessively decorated Christmas tree that was placed in the corner of the room. A dazzling white angel stood proudly at the top; part of the wing was ignited in a soft shimmer from the rays of moonlight that seeped through the drawn curtains. Numerous sprigs of color shone from the lights, twisted and tangled in the magnificent green of the branches. Hanging from each branch was a wide variety of decorations, including a plastic Santa, reindeer, and gift boxes, along with paper snowflakes and other decorative items that I had created myself under the watchful eye of Mommy.

"Pretty," Nicole chirped, beaming in awe. She went silent, almost like she was awaiting my response. But, I had already moved away from her, no longer interested in the beauty of the tree. I could feel her eyes set on me while I rummaged through the many presents placed beneath the tree, having felt the need to feel them the moment I noticed them.

"Jordan,  _what_  are you  _doing_?" She dropped to her knees, shuffling over next to me; close enough I could feel her hair tickle my shoulder. It was always a rule that Santa's presents were not to be touched until morning, but that rule was one that I often broke. Santa had already gone, and he was a busy guy, so he couldn't come take them back.

"Hmm. . ." I hummed absentmindedly while gathering up a gift wrapped in shimmering red paper into my petite arms. I traced my fingers over the soft surface before shaking it lightly. A smirk tugged on my lips. "Dis one costed at weast five dowwars!"

I looked at my sister and wasn't surprised to see her rolling her eyes. Nicole opened her mouth to reply, but stopped short. Her eyes widened, and a moment later, a hollow, blood-curdling scream hit my ears. The sound bounced off the walls, echoing down the hallways and chilling my blood. Images of monsters whirled through my head, stopping my breathing.

In an instant, Nicole got to her feet and bounded toward the living room. Another scream flooded the house, followed by an echo and the sound of a rough voice shouting. I froze as my mind processed the sound of the voices. They were so familiar. . .

"Nickle, dat's Mommy and Daddy!" I paused to try to catch a breath. It was like the sudden panic was clogging up my lungs.

"Oh no! The monster came! It's gonna eat us!" Nicole shrieked. She wheeled around and snatched my arm with a shaking hand, her light blue eyes widened with pure terror. We both stood there, staring at each other, until Nicole slowly turned and led me toward the screaming. I followed, hurrying to stay behind her until we both slipped into the living room where the shouts were so loud, they made me want to clasp my hands over my ears to block them out. Instead, we dropped to our knees where the sound was the least bit quieter.

We both snuck behind a couch, tensed. Nicole stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I met her gaze and nodded; the silent signal to take our chances and look. Almost simultaneously, we stole a glance over our little barrier. A treacherous sight met my gaze, melting the blood right out of my face. My muscles turned to stone while my body froze with shock.

Glass sprinkled the room, covering the floor like dew on the morning grass. The room seemed exposed, ripped of the holiday bliss. Everything was broken. Cracks webbed the once flawless wall, blood trickling from them like red tears and painted the furniture and floor in sickening splatters of color.

That alone was enough to send me into a full-on panic attack, though I was frozen, my stare locked on one thing alone. Mommy's lifeless body was sprawled across the floor in an unnatural position. Her gentle blue eyes were wide open—but unseeing—and her clothes were ripped. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she was allowing the life to flow out of her. Her chest was still and lifeless. A small voice in my head commanded me to run to her, but the horror of the open wound in the shape of teeth on Mommy's neck, oozing with her own blood, held me back.

It took a full minute to bring me back to present time. The sound of the ticking clock slowly made its way through the maze of my muddled thoughts. I lifted my gaze, gulping against the lump in my throat. I started to back away, but Nicole, whom I'd forgotten all about, stopped me with a hand on my arm. She turned her head, slowly and stiffly, to look at me before turning it back to the scene. I followed her gaze and tensed at what I saw.

Across the room stood a lanky, intimidating man with a pale complexion. He was bent over a russet figure that could only be Daddy, his mouth firmly attached to his neck while his hands grasped his shoulders. My stomach flip-flopped at the sight of Daddy's eyes, popped wide and still, his mouth agape in a silent scream. The man didn't seem to notice, much less care.

Daddy's thrashing body was pinned, rendering him helpless. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't remember how. Nicole's hand tightened on my arm when the man made a spitting sound, almost like a hiss. Quick as lightning, the man raked his nails down daddy's neck, cutting deep into pink flesh. The thrashing slowed. Daddy's eyelids drooped, nearly covering his eyes.

Although we were only three and four, I was pretty sure both Nicole and I were able to understand what was happening, to a small extent. I wanted to collapse when a shallow emptiness plunged into the pit of my stomach as the reality of what was happening started to boil and scar my innocent mind. Nicole suddenly erupted into hysterical cries, becoming shaken by sobs. Warm, moist tears streamed down her horrified face, leaving a damp, sticky trail behind them. I was motionless when her hand dropped from my arm. She let out a choked sob and scrambled away.

Having not physically reacted, I still stood like a small stone statue, my gaze becoming glued on the bloody scene in front of me. Breezes whistled through the cracks in the wall and a gust of air whipped down my throat. The sound seemed to distract the creature from his prey; he grunted in response. A shock zapped me, knowing even though he hadn't noticed Nicole's presence by sound, he knew I was here. Slowly—very slowly—the white man moved away from my daddy's body, lifting his head.

Blood dripped off of the man's lips. With a hiss, the malicious creature jerked, standing erect in a flash. His expression was dark at first; more terrifying than any monster I'd ever dreamed of. Then it was gone, a taunting smirk stretched over his face, showing his gleaming white teeth. The sharp edges were stained red.

"Merry Christmas," he crowed. "Don't fret, child—you won't remember this."

His crimson eyes, swimming like the pools of blood on the floor, captured my gaze. He stood frozen for a single heartbeat, his voice trailing into the silence of the room. A taunting smirk stretched over his face, showing his gleaming white teeth painted in red. A tick of the clock later, the man disappeared. In a blur of white, he was gone, leaving only echoes of his voice behind.

I stood, frozen in place. I didn't cry, scream, or run. Instead, I stared blankly at the broken body before me. My black hair fluttered in the breezes that blew through the broken wall. The image of the crimson eyes burned like a white-hot heat in my mind.

I would never forget.

"C-Come," a gurgling, choking voice rasped. I snapped my head in the direction where Daddy lay. The sudden movement brought a dull ache into my neck, but I barely felt it. All I could focus on was Daddy's brown eyes; wide and staring into my own, beckoning me to him.

" _Daddy_!" I raced over faster than my legs could manage and tumbled down into an ocean of shiny bits that were once the window. Glass pierced into my soft palm, but I ignored the prickling pain and scrambled toward my father.

His chest heaved with uneven breathing, his whole body convulsing so badly it looked like someone was rattling him. Blood matted his hair and covered his skin, oozing from the horrific wounds that mangled his features. I didn't breathe as I placed my hands on either side of his face, trying to make him focus.

Nothing stuck out more than his torn up throat. It was ripped down to nothing more than shreds, mangled and red like the puffy ribbons on the Christmas gifts. My chest collapsed, and my breathing turned to stutters. I dropped to my knees next to him. My voice was a hushed whisper. "Daddy, you otay? You otay?"

He lifted his head ever so slightly and gazed in my direction. His eyes crinkled with pain from the small movement. He raised a shaking hand, the blood shimmering in the moonlight, and wrapped his fingers around my hand. The gesture was comforting, but the icy temperature of his palm made me squirm a little.

I counted my breaths and waited, hope burning in my heart. Of course he would be okay—Daddy was tougher than anyone I knew. I glanced down at his hand and then at his face again. His lips cracked open, the shaking of his hand rattling my whole arm. "N-n-never tr-trust. . ."

The sentence was never finished. I watched in horror as Daddy's body went limp, falling back in a slow motion. His head rolled to the side and his eyes closed, his chest falling while he released his final breath. My vision blurred when I moved my gaze down to Daddy's strong hand, which was still loosely clasping my own. Just a moment later, the hand went limp, rolling onto the ground in what seemed like slow motion. It was a muted movement, but I heard it crashing in my ears.

Time seemed to stutter before resuming again. I rested my head down on my father's still chest, my tiny, trembling fingers clutching his shirt. Every image of this night seared into my brain. Somehow, I knew that Daddy wasn't going to wake up. The thought struck me hard while the last story ever told by Bradley Uley echoed in my mind.

_"Today, the wolves still run the lands, and the monsters still hunt among them, stealing lives in the dead of night. But the wolves and the men will always be there to protect their people. . ."_


	2. Breaking the Ice

_"When she was just a girl_  
She expected the world  
But it flew away from her reach so  
She ran away in her sleep." - Coldplay.

* * *

Chapter Two

Breaking the Ice

_December 3rd, 1998._

* * *

Before I knew it, I was seven years old. It sounded like a very big accomplishment at the time—it was something that could make any young girl proud. Once I was seven, I had to use two hands to tell people how old I was. That was pretty cool, because babies could only use one hand. I was seven, so I couldn't be thought of as a baby anymore.

When I was seven, there was one special thing that I could do that babies couldn't. Babies couldn't sneak off into the woods all by themselves in the heart of the bitter winter season. That was because it got so cold in those long months that a baby couldn't stand the unforgiving winds and bone chilling temperatures. But I was  _not_  a baby, so of course being out in the woods alone during the winter was an acceptable thing for me to do. I did it all the time when I needed time alone. It started off as a rash decision driven by confusion, but with time, the trips had turned into a daily habit.

Although I had created various patterns of escape, I didn't bother to try anything fancy on this day. After my Uncle Sam had tucked me in for my nap, I counted to ten in my head. When I didn't hear footsteps, I threw my blankets to the side, ran over to my window and I tugged at the latch desperately until it popped. I shoved the window open just enough for me to slide through. I shivered as a breath of the winter cold stung my skin, but the adrenaline of the moment kept me warm. After another breath and shiver, I squeezed through the space of the cracked window and tumbled a few feet toward the open ground, somersaulting through the powdery winter snow before I landed flat on my belly. I crawled through the ground, spitting out the snow that had slipped through my lips, and then felt my way numbly through the forest until I was face-to-face with a wide oak tree.

I was instantly washed with peace. When I settled into the snow, I hummed to myself. Time seemed to stop, freezing in the moment. I leaned back against a tree, studying my surroundings. My world had been painted white with thick sheets of snow. Within minutes, my ears were tinted pink, and my fingertips had gone numb. Still, I didn't want to go inside.

Uncle Sam and Nicole were back at the house, completely oblivious to my absence. They never would suspect that I would leave the house in the winter. The house was really big and pretty and warm—I only came out to play in the snow with Sam and Nicole once a day because as far as they knew, I hated the cold. Really, I liked the snow. The numbness of it just felt . . . good.

I hadn't always been doing things that Sam and Nicole didn't know about. Things started out okay, actually. Four years ago, Uncle Sam brought Nicole and me to the reservation—the place where all the Quileute people lived. All of the Quileute people looked the same: black hair, dark eyes, and year-round tans. Uncle Sam told us that Daddy was a native, too, just like him. He told us Daddy grew up around the reservation but went to Alaska to be with Mommy, even though she was not a Quileute. That made Nicole and me half Quileute. I didn't completely understand the half Quileute thing, but I understood that Daddy probably should not have left the reservation to be with Mommy. Still, I thought it was really nice of him.

Nicole and I hadn't seen Mommy and Daddy since we came to live with Uncle Sam. Sam wasn't bad at taking care of us, though. He let us eat the last cookie from the jar, took us out to explore the villages, taught us the alphabet, and instructed us on other educational things. I really liked living with Uncle Sam, but I missed Mommy and Daddy. A lot. A few times I had asked Uncle Sam when my parents would come to get my sister and me. He always answered the same way: "Don't listen to your nightmares. They'll be here soon."

I hung onto Sam's word, believing that someday my parents would knock on the door and life would continue on as if we'd never been separated. I stayed patient and hopeful up until one winter afternoon when Sam told us something that changed everything completely.

I pushed my fists, purple with the cold, into my pockets. With a deep, slow breath, I cuddled back into the tree. My heavy lids dropped quickly, and just a moment later, my body tensed. I fell into a sea of flashbacks.

The first picture that came to my mind featured Sam.

He shook out his snow-covered hat and wiped his feet on the rug. Sam slipped out of his coat and took a deep breath, greeting Nicole and me with a nod before moving across the room and flipping off the television without a word. Nicole and I both stared up at him as he turned back to us.

Sam sighed and knelt in front of the couch. He smiled a little and took our hands in one of his large, warm ones; the copper color of his skin matched ours almost exactly. His chocolate eyes were warm and sweet, yet somehow troubled in a way I didn't understand. Sam stumbled through his words as he tried to explain that our parents were dead and wouldn't be coming back.

I wasn't sure that it was the best time to let us hear that, but Sam said he just couldn't take the questions anymore. Asking when Daddy would come pick us up, wondering if Mommy would really visit this year for our birthdays. . . Sam couldn't do it. I stared blankly at Sam for a while until his words gradually started to make sense. My stomach twisted as I realized Daddy was never going to pick us up again, and Mommy would never be there for my birthday. Ice locked around my heart and then broke—I was flooded with a chilled wave of understanding.

Nicole stayed silent and still throughout the whole story, with the exception of a few nods and shudders. The whole time she repeatedly glanced at me with an icy gaze, studying my expression. Nicole, who was accepting what she was hearing without a problem, stood and wrapped her thin arms around Sam's neck when his body shook as she tried to comfort him. She understood in an instant.

"It's going to be okay," Nicole had whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Then, there was me—stunned. My own  _sister_ was brushing off this news as if Mommy and Daddy meant nothing to her. My blood felt like acid, and my baby teeth clenched. I listened to Sam until the magnitude of the story had shaken me beyond the point of understanding. My ears rung and my teeth grinded together as all Sam's lies, all my false hope and all our loss crushed me right then and there.

I had never felt such strong emotions before. My body shuddered when it tried to cope with the sudden surge of emotions. Sam and Nicole's words slurred together as the world around me blurred out of focus. I forced Sam's hand away and instantly knew I had to find some way to escape, filled with a sudden desire to get out of the house and away from the world.

Why?

That was all I wanted to know when I froze out in the winter forest. The cold numbed my other thoughts and took me out of the world. Why did this happen to my sister and me, when we had done nothing to deserve it? Why didn't it happen to some kid who  _did_  deserve it? Why?

My fiery frustration returned, dragging me back into reality. I became aware of my surroundings. I blinked, swinging my head from side to side as I tried to figure out what had snapped me back. It didn't take long for me to find out.

_Crunch._

Snow crackled from behind me, once, twice, then over and over again. My frozen mind took a minute to register the sound of someone walking toward me.

I huddled back against the bark, feeling a slight sliver of comfort when it held itself firmly in place. Thin bushes swayed around me, stripped bare by the cold. The wind howled, whistling in my ears and blocking out the crunching snow. I stared up at the pale grey sky, my heart pounding. I waited to be found by Sam to finally bust me for sneaking out. I hoped for him to find me and confess that what he had said was only a joke.

I waited for something that would never happen, no matter how much I wanted it to.

After a few minutes of silence, I grew confused. Why was he just standing there? I hadn't thought anybody else would want to wander out into the woods as I had.

My gaze fell from the sky and landed upon an oddly familiar stranger. He stood beneath the grey sky, his stance tall and his body lean. He was as white as the snow, positioned in a crouch. His expression was frozen in a wild screech when he leaned toward me.

"No!" I shouted. Maybe it was a stupid thing to do, but I couldn't help it. The monster parted his lips in a hiss, revealing his teeth. I blinked my eyes once, and he was gone.

My mind twirled like a tornado, much too fast for me to keep up. The shock of the moment paralyzed me, but only for a second. I acted out of pure instinct—I jumped to my feet, ignoring the burn of my frozen legs. I turned and hurried to get away from the monster, dashing through the snow as fast as I could.

My legs sunk knee-deep after just a few short strides. The cold burned my skin as it melted on my legs, biting hard into the skin that wasn't covered by the ratty knee-length nightgown covering my body. I tripped a few times, falling face-first into what felt like a freezing fire. Still, I pushed forward, accompanied by the same frozen flashes of crimson stares, glazed with hunger, by my side.

The voice in my head telling me to run was the only thing that kept me going. The need to escape allowed me to move my numb, aching legs. My breath was heavy and wheezing as I trudged into deeper snow. Still, I managed to continue on through thin, dead brush and deep carpets of snow.

Eventually, I stopped to catch my breath. I held my fists curled to my chest and let my eyes—flared wide with fear—scan around. The Cold Man seemed to have disappeared. I exhaled slowly and turned to go, only to see the glowing figure of the red-eyed man directly behind me.

Panicked, I spun around, trying hard to break my feet free of the snow I had sunk into and run farther away. I bent my knee and gave it a hard yank, my arms straight out by my sides to steady myself. My attempt failed.

I tumbled, landing hard on my hands and knees in a crunchy pile of snow. Shivers shot through my body as I struggled to free myself once more. I pulled with all my might, but it still wasn't enough. My legs and arms were weighed down with exhaustion, and I didn't have the strength; I was trapped in the snow with no escape.

I shook my head. Showers of snow sprayed around me, dotting the powdery surface. Breath squeezed into my swollen throat. From the cloud of grey snowfall, I could hear the hiss, see those eyes. . .

Suddenly, a gust of chilly air and snow slapped at the figure. I blinked once more. By the time my lids had closed and opened, I found myself alone again, as if the Cold Man had disappeared in that second.

Right then I felt a sudden burst of strength. I wasn't going to stop now; I was positive that the figure would appear again. Ripping my red, stinging arms free from the thick layers, I fell back into a bed of much softer snow, protecting my face with my hands. Snow crackled as the figure stepped closer. I gathered my courage and gazed through the slits of my eyes, trying to see what was coming.

The Cold Man lunged. He gave a feral snarl, his hand outstretched for me. I froze, unable to tear my gaze away. I knew I was done for. I knew I wouldn't escape—he would take my life as he had taken my parents.

Then, suddenly, everything changed. A hulking black form burst through the Cold Man. His lunging form evaporated, disappearing as the black form ran through. I stopped and stared, my mind unable to comprehend what this creature was.

What looked like a black shadow stood over me, its breath huffing out in front of it. The creature was not at all a Cold Man. Confused, I fully opened my eyes and stared back into two gentle pools of dark blue.

Hot breath whispered across my face, melting away the fear. A muzzle pressed into my palm, and a nose felt the steady pulse in my wrist. My heart thumped, speeding up with the sudden fear of being eaten by this animal, but the warmth radiating from him drew me in. My fingers knotted into a black, icy ruff, and my nails dug into a downy undercoat. Heat instantly spread across my palms. I let out a breath, my body relaxing with relief, and pulled my trembling body closer to the warmth. My eyes fell shut, too heavy to stay open any longer.

It was hard for me to explain what happened next.

Somehow, the body under my hands  _changed_. The warmth was still there, but the body was shifting and the coarse feeling of fur disappeared from under my palms. Instead, I was holding something that was still warm, but smoother.

I fought the exhaustion in my mind, fought the cold trying to steal me away. One eye opened and I could make out the blurry shape of one tan, toned arm. My vision went fuzzy again, and my eyes squeezed shut. I swallowed back the lump in my throat and rolled in the arms carrying me. My forehead bumped into what felt like a bare chest. I knew who it was even before he spoke.

"She shouldn't be doing this," Sam ranted, seeming to be talking to himself. "Why did she come out here? Is it my fault?"

He paused for a moment. I could feel his eyes settle on my form, and he sighed. "You're okay, honey. Daddy is here," Sam murmured softly.

"Daddy," I whispered, my eyes still shut tight. "You need to run. . ."

He chuckled weakly. "There's nothing to run from. It was all in your head."

My heart hammered against my ribs as I remembered the gleam in those murderous eyes. The image of the Cold Man was alive in my mind again. I could clearly see the Cold Man when he stalked towards me with his teeth bared, ready to kill. . .

"You're lying!" I squirmed in Sam's arms, desperate for escape. "Run! Daddy, run, he's gonna get you!"

Sam didn't run. I could feel my body sway slightly in Sam's arms as he continued to calmly walk through the forest. One hand—strong, but gentle and reassuring—stroked my tangled hair back, straightening it out. "Shh, it'll be okay. It wasn't real. You just got too cold, honey. You're safe. I've got you."

I never understood how he did it, but Sam's tone and words calmed me. I curled into his arms, snuggling against him. His reassurance was comforting, but I was still scared.

"Stay away from the Christmas tree," I warned him in a mumble. "A Cold One will be there. . . **"**

"No, there is no Christmas tree. Everything is okay," he replied. His voice was thick with worry, but still soft.

When he continued to stroke my hair, I reached up and grabbed his warm hand with both of my icy ones. I held on tight, just in case someone tried to steal him from me. "Love you, Daddy. . ."

Sam might have said something in response, but I didn't get the chance to hear it. The exhaustion pressed down harder in my mind. The warmth radiating from Sam's body was luring me into the temptation of sleep.

Unable to fight my exhaustion any longer, I took one last breath and told myself that as long as Sam was here, I would be okay. That was the last thing I thought before sleep pulled me in.


	3. Bad Feelings

_"Back when I was a child, before life removed all the innocence_  
 _My father would lift me high and dance with my mother and me and then_  
 _Spin me around 'til I fell asleep_  
 _Then up the stairs he would carry me_  
 _And I knew for sure I was loved_  
 _If I could get another chance, another walk, another dance with him  
I'd play a song that would never, ever end_  
 _How I'd love, love, love_  
 _To dance with my father again." -_ Luther Vandross.

* * *

Chapter Three

Bad Feelings

 _June 9th, 1999_.

* * *

_One moment I was in a white, enclosed room. The next, I opened my eyes to find myself back at home. I was in my bed, trapped beneath the covers as if I had never left._

_I blinked, taking in the sudden change of surroundings. When my gaze swept over the familiar wooden floors I knew that I was back at Sam's. The moonlight shone through the gleaming windows, igniting tiny bits of dust that danced in the air. It shot straight through the curtains, chasing away the darkness with a soft silver glow. Everything was perfectly in place; nothing was out of the ordinary._

_But nobody was home._

_I started to slowly walk down the hall, searching for any signs of Sam or Nicole. I called out, only to be answered with silence. Maybe they were asleep? I padded further down the hallway, pausing in front of a mirror. I stared for a long moment, studying the white gown that covered my body. I looked for a moment, but then quickly averted my gaze as a sudden flash of color caught my eye. I whipped around, but again, there was nobody there._

_Shrugging off the tension, I made my way back down the hall, only to bump into something hard. I caught my breath quickly, having lost it with the impact, and stepped backward. It was kind of hard to see through the darkness. I had probably run into one of Sam's bookshelves._

_"Sorry," I whispered to the furniture. I knew it couldn't understand me, but the words slipped out. I smiled a little at the stupidity of the comment and started to leave, until a voice stopped me in my tracks._

_"It's quite all right."_

_Just that the bookshelf talked would have been enough to give me a heart attack. But what sent my heart racing was the familiarity of the soft, silky tone. I stopped breathing. Slowly, very slowly, I lifted my head._

_The moon shifted, sending a burst of light through the window. I could clearly see the pale figure glaring at me with hungry crimson eyes. I knew those eyes. Those were the eyes of the murderer that had taken my mother and father away from me._

_I tried to scream, but I couldn't find my voice. I stood there, frozen, feeling the seconds tick by while I gradually remembered how to move again. As fast as I could, I whipped around and dove back into the hallway, my hands fumbling with the nearest doorknob. Once I got the knob to work, I ripped open the door and threw myself inside the dark room, kicking the door shut behind me._

_A minute of eerie silence passed, then another. I lifted my head and opened my eyes, scanning my surroundings. It was hard to see, but I was guessing I was probably in an extra bedroom. My fingers glided along the oddly sticky wall until they found a switch. I snapped it upward, blinking away the spots from the sudden light. My eyes widened as I saw the blood splattered along the wall._

_I jumped back, trying to further myself from the blood. In mid-step, my foot caught on something on the floor. I stumbled back into the wall and lifted my head, only to see Sam's and Nicole's lifeless faces inches from my own, their throats torn open and leaking with their last precious droplets of blood._

"Jordan! Wake up!"

I lurched upward into a sitting position, my stomach rolling from the sudden movement. Sweat traced my hairline, and my mouth felt parched. My chest rose and fell with my rapid intake of air. Each breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I couldn't get all the air in and out fast enough. Sam and Nicole were dead; they were  _dead_.

I didn't notice the woman next to me, sitting on the edge of my bed with a worried expression, until she raised her hand and felt my forehead. She shook her head as I tensed up and recoiled away from her. With a sigh, she clasped her hands together and rested them on her thighs.

"Honey, what were you dreaming about?" the woman croaked. Her voice alone betrayed her age despite the black coloring of her greying hair.

"Dreaming?" The question was soft and low—just barely audible.

"Yes, you were screaming in your sleep again."

"Oh." My shoulders dropped in relief. Sam and Nicole were alive.

"Yes. So, would you please tell me exactly why you were screaming?" The woman's questioning stare probed my own, trying to press an answer out of me. My face was a cold, blank mask, a clear sign of my refusal to answer. I stared steadily back at her, silent. I had used this same mask to hide my emotions, keeping them locked in the chambers of my mind. Over the months, I became a stone—blank and nearly mute.

After a few minutes, the woman sighed. It was a heavy sigh—one that came only with age. "Well, sweetheart, the longer you refuse to speak with me, the longer you'll be in here." The woman stood, walking toward the door, her shoes clicking on the thin carpet. When she reached the door, she gave me a sideways glance as if giving me another chance to answer her. I continued to stare at her until she shut the door.

"Sweetheart! Cheer up! Sweetheart! Get a grip or we'll keep you here longer! Sweetheart, sweetheart! _Sweetheart_!" My voice, in the tone of a sickly sweet rant, was the only sound in the empty room. I had hated this place since the moment I stepped foot in it. I hated the people. I hated the woman. I even hated myself for ending up in a place like this.

It was hard for me to grasp why Sam had sent me away in the first place. I was turning eight the day he brought me to the prison called Miss Anna's, but the candles were extinguished without me. Sam had tried to coax a smile, a word,  _anything_ out of me, but I had sat in my tree, staring at nothing. My tree was comforting to me. It was a huge oak with wide branches. I liked to think that they were the tree's arms; arms that embraced me, hiding me from the world. It was the same tree that had been my winter shelter for years and years.

Once, I had tried to explain the tree to Sam, but he didn't understand. He told me that I must have felt bad to stay out all the time. The "bad feelings"—feelings that were full of utter rage—were bottled inside of me. Not a single person or word would coax them out. Nobody understood me. Not even Sam.

Unable to take it any longer, he had loaded me up in the car, drove into the middle of nowhere, and parked in that muddy driveway out front, leaned back, and watched me in the mirror. I had kept my gaze on the window, acting as if he didn't exist. My legs swung above the mess of heavy coats and scattered tools while I counted my breaths. Warm breath fogged the window, blocking out the green of the surrounding forest. I kept my gaze steady, refusing to look at anything. I didn't know what would be worse—seeing Sam's face or the punishment he was sentencing me to.

After a million years of silence, Sam had spoken, explaining everything in that deep, slow way of his.

"This is what they call a boarding house," he'd begun. "Most of the people who live here are much older than you are and don't have families. The boarding house offers shelter and support with many other people on the reservation. If someone needs help with money, their families, their relationships. . . Ms. Anna helps them all for a low fee.

"At the same time, the boarding home also accepts children, though only children who also are having trouble with other people and their families. The woman here—Ms. Anna—does weekend work with me. I've spoken to her and made arrangements for you to stay here for a little while. Ms. Anna also lives here, so she'll be there for you all the time. She is kind and will feed you, but you do have to cooperate or she might become frustrated with you."

Sam paused, licking his lips. He shook his head, lowering his gaze. "She's a really nice lady. I've already paid for your stay in advance, so I need you to please, just . . . just try to be good. For me."

Silence had fallen. Sam's gaze returned to the mirror, his dark eyes steady, giving me a final chance. After a few minutes of nothing, Sam raked a hand through his hair before stepping out of the truck. Seconds later, my door had creaked open. Sam stepped aside, revealing the sight of the big brown house.

"Come on," he'd muttered, and I had no other choice but to hop out of the car and drag my feet toward the porch.

I had been in this loony bin for a while. I counted days away by ripping little pieces of my thick mattress and tossing them in the corner. My eyes flickered to the heaped pile of misshapen chunks in the corner of my small room. Or closet; it might as well have been a closet.

While there, I hadn't learned much except how to walk silently along the floors, undetected. That "trick" as Ms. Anna had called it, got me locked in my room all afternoon. I had also learned that if you didn't look at anybody and kept to yourself, you would be left alone. Except when it was time for 'recess.'

There were many different rules in the loony bin. Many applied to the other guests, though there were some made special for the children brought here. I couldn't remember all of them, though I did remember the main rules: never go outside without permission, leave George—Ms. Anna's mean, yet highly trained dog—alone at all times, leave other residents alone, stay in the bedroom from eight-thirty PM to seven AM, and most of all, have fun at recess.

Recess wasn't fun at all. When it came time for recess, Ms. Anna would gather all of us together and herd us out onto the porch. There, she would sit us down and talk about what great joys friends were before she hurried back inside.

The other children talked to each other. One was a boy, younger than me by at least a few years, and the other a girl who was about the same age as him. We shared similar features with our dark skin and hair, though the other kids were much more talkative than I was. While they chatted, I sat in silence, only listening. They didn't talk about much—the girl whined about how lazy her mommy and daddy were for spending all their time searching for work instead of actually working while the boy repetitively recited his tale about the time he'd seen George swallow another boy who had been sneaking out past eight-thirty in one big bite. I didn't know if that was true or not.

Most of the people in the loony bin were really strange. I would say everyone was, but I wasn't. I didn't belong in any loony bin. I was just a quiet little girl who ate her meals without sparing a crumb and went through the day without a word. Nobody would ever understand that though, because I didn't want to talk to Ms. Anna. She made me angry. Ms. Anna prodded and poked at my secrets, begging me with her high-pitched nagging tone when I refused to respond. Every night, Ms. Anna tried—and failed—to get me to speak. She asked all sorts of questions, wanting me to at least say one little thing about Mommy or Daddy.

I couldn't.

This was doing nothing for me except driving me crazy. I didn't want to live in a loony bin, but in the past month, I had gotten no closer to getting out than the second I had walked through the door, despite my many attempts. Eventually, everything had gotten to be too much, and I had decided that I was going to get myself out of there one way or another.

On this night, I found my chance.

Ms. Anna had retreated to the basement earlier than usual, complaining of a headache. I counted her steps all the way to twelve, listening for the muffled shut of her door. Hope sparked my chest the moment the sound reached my ears. Tonight, I didn't squirm when I was ushered off to my room.

Twelve steps wasn't enough to lock the upstairs exits.

And those twelve steps had given me the chance I needed.

The second I was completely certain no one else was awake, I pushed my door open and slid into the hall. Breathing quickly but lightly, I pressed my skinny back against the wall and slid down the hall toward my only escape. My breathing paused for a moment as I rounded the corner and peeked around the edge.

The hallway was vacant and dark with the exception of the lone window that filtered in a soft glow of light. My eyes squinted against the silvery shine of the moon. After my eyes had adjusted, I took a few more steps forward. With narrowed eyes, I focused on the only thing that would get me out: the tiny black latch. It was turned to the left, strong and still as it held the windows shut. All it would take was a push. It was too easy.

I shook the thoughts from my mind, forcing myself to focus. My trembling fingers opened, reaching toward the shiny latch. I took a shaky breath, my eyes darting around the blank, white hall in search of danger. I couldn't find any, but I was dizzy.  _Were the walls always leaning down like they might crush me? Did the white lights always spin? Was there barely any air to breathe last time I walked down here?_

I took another deep breath, wiping my clammy hands on my scrappy outfit. I rubbed a tense arm over my forehead, picking up the beads of determined sweat.

In the minute I had wasted, I couldn't take the pressure on my shoulders anymore. Bravery pooled heavily inside of me, willing my hands to grasp the latch. It was scalding hot, the surface boiling my palms. I bit my tongue, fighting the prickles of the shout that crawled up my throat. I forced my arms to bend back and shove hard against the latch with all my might.

I almost expected it to be like the movies where the window wouldn't open. I was the determined failure who would get busted and sent back for another try. I was surely going to be stuck. But I was wrong. I wasn't in the movies.

The windows creaked before swinging open.

There was probably a half a second of time for me to draw in the freedom. Fresh, clean air filled my lungs and choked out the stale scent of the hospital. Familiar dark green treetops spread as far as I could see, sprinkled with drops of sweet morning rain. The sun just peeked out from the clouds, bringing out a beautiful blaze in the landscape. There was no sense of the confined, pale prison in which I had spent weeks. I was  _free_.

Only a moment passed, even though it felt like an eternity while I took it in. A heartbeat after I returned to reality, I heard it—the deep, growling rumble coming from down the hall. My head snapped up, my gaze instantly landing on the crouched dog in the corner of the hallway. It snarled when I looked at it, saliva dripping from the tips of its teeth.

George.

I tensed up when my mind processed what was happening—I was about to get caught by this vicious, child-eating dog, just like others before me had. The punishment would be unimaginable and I would never find this chance again. The angry voices yelling at me in my mind almost convinced me to turn and bolt back into my room, but my starvation for freedom had quickly returned. The hunger to escape overrode my other thoughts.

Without thinking, I leaned far over the edge, into the late-night air. Time ticked by slowly. My gaze dropped down the twenty-foot fall. I knew I had to jump; there was no other choice. My mind wasn't quick enough to consider what could happen. George thundered down the hallway, his teeth gnashing as he closed in on his prey: me. One last deep breath whistled into my chest.

I jumped.

I fell straight down, saw the world spin, and felt my stomach drop. The rush blocked out my fury. The next thing I knew, the sensation ended and I was on solid ground, feet planted on a squishy carpet of grass. Pain split through my knees, but it wasn't so bad; it was easy enough to ignore.

Realization hit me then. I was free. I grinned, standing up, feeling the spikes of grass brushing my ankles. I turned to stick my tongue out at the dog above. "B—"

I choked on the air of my words, cutting off. Above me, the large dog thrashed and yowled on the ledge. With each mad jerk, the window rose a little higher, inch by inch. The black windows became bursts of yellow as the house lit up, coming to life again.

Yet again, my heart thundered and sweat popped up onto my skin.

I threw myself into the forest. The wind pushed against my neck, urging me forward. I sprinted as fast as my legs would carry me, only forcing myself faster when I heard a thump of impact as a heavy body met the ground behind me, followed by a sharp bark. It wasn't just a normal bark; it was deep and mean. Mean enough to chase me and drag me back to the loony bin.

I raced through the forest, daring to glance over my shoulder just for a moment. George was big, standing even with my shoulder. He pointed his ears and nose to the sky while he let out an infuriated storm of barks. He was somewhat cute, until his ears pressed flat against his head. He snapped his head in my direction and gave a growl, his lips pulling back to reveal his teeth.

Thorns bit me as I pushed through the brush while branches scratched at my bare skin. I gritted my teeth together and panted through the spaces, not risking any extra noise. I couldn't help it—it was the only way I could avoid shouting out.

I quickly found George wasn't only loud and mean—he was fast too. He could push through the thorns quicker than I could. Pure determination drove me to tumble through the ever thickening brush, my skin breaking. My jaw started to ache as the branches came faster and faster, until finally, I landed on a bed of pines. I thought about scrambling under them until I saw a perfectly round hole in the ground.

I didn't think. I had wiggled right into the hole, closing my eyes against the dirt that rained over me. My hands clawed at the ground, making more room so I could get in faster. Thankfully, my thin body slid through smoothly.

Seconds later, I plunged down into a bed, soft and squishy. The barks outside grew louder with aggravation. I saw paws—big, heavy paws—stomping towards the den. A muzzle, crusted with dirt and drool, led the dog closer and closer. Soon, he would be in the den, those sharp teeth catching my arm and pulling me out. . .

Suddenly, a tawny blur shot out of the opening. The squishy feeling was gone, and I was left on a cold seat of dirt. I blinked as the dog barked, chasing after the small animal that had exploded out in front of him.

After a moment of fading howls, I was safe. No. I wasn't  _safe_ , not yet. I was out of danger from that mean dog, but if I didn't hurry, someone from the loony bin was bound to catch up. But I was free, and that was good enough for me.

"Yes!" I smiled a smile so wide, my cheeks hurt. I might have been young, but even at a young age I had enough fire in me to have escaped. Nobody could tell me I was stupid for attempting an escape, because now I had done it. I had escaped from the loony bin.

Feeling as if I could now take on the world, I strutted around until I came across a trail. I followed the dirt path with my head bowed, hiding my grinning face. I marched down the pavement, my proud walking eventually turning into a light skip while I made my way home, leaving my own "bad feelings" behind me . . . for now.

In the distance, a hulking black figure ran parallel to me, his eyes following my every movement. Despite his size and closeness, I never noticed him.


	4. Games Gone Wrong

_"Calling for the good old days_  
 _Because there were no good old days_  
 _These are the good old days."_ \- The Libertines.

* * *

Chapter Four

Games Gone Wrong

_August 31st, 2001._

* * *

It was one of those rare days when the sky seemed to hold back the precipitation long enough for the sun to peek through the wall of grey fluff. Nothing fell from above other than the last of the summer's green leaves, which were whirling around in the wind before they settled back around the rocks that bordered the path of water. With the rain gone, the reservation was kind of . . . beautiful.

Dappled sunlight gleamed against the crystal, slate-blue water. The surface glittered. Concealed by grey boulders and moss-blanketed trees, our boat zoomed down the river. The roar of the motor blocked out the hum of bugs as they worked under the rising sun.

I lay on the front platform. My toes scraped against the rough floor while my stomach rested flat against my cushion. Reaching my arm down toward the waves lapping against the side of the boat, my fingers uncurled into the water. Sheets of it rushed through the spaces between my fingers before they disappeared underneath the boat. The water skimmed my fingertips, nipping at my skin. Water hissed and parted around my loose hand, spitting up on the front of the boat. A grin spread across my face. Just being like this—hands in the water, wind dipping under my hair and running along my scalp, the tiny traces of cold biting at the edge of my nose—brought a smile to my face. It was these moments that kept me happy, like an average ten-year-old girl should be.

Suddenly, a russet hand brushed over my own. I smiled at the gesture. That was, until the hand stretched out to plunge beneath the surface, causing water to splash over my face, drenching me. I spat out a mouthful, ignoring the light chuckle I heard beside me. I rolled over, forcing the body beside me nearly off the edge of the boat and into the rush of water. The body shook with the strain while he struggled to hold on, his shouts lost in the wind.

The boy, barely a teen, made a muffled grunt when he tumbled off the edge, caught in the wind. He slapped his hand against the outside of the boat to avoid tumbling into a bed of icy water. His hair flew wildly in the rush of cool air, his muscles flexing as he dragged his body back into the boat. While he steadied himself, his gaze flickered in my direction. His eyes, the color of melted chocolate, met mine, and I received one of his sloppy grins.

"Hey, that was an  _accident._ No need to get pushy." He chuckled in a good-natured way.

I narrowed my eyes, the corners of my mouth tilting up in a smile. I knew the boy well enough to feel the unsuccessful jab in his tone. "That was an accident, huh? Right! If that was an accident, then this is too!"

Before he could react, I shoved my hands against his shoulders. The boy gasped and his eyes popped. His other hand smacked down on my cushion, giving him balance right before he rolled overboard. He looked as if he was trying to pull off some fancy gymnastic move. The sight sent laughter bubbling from my mouth.

"Hey! You're gonna tip this thing over!"

Both the boy and I looked back. Nicole and another boy, the same age as her, were sitting close together on the last seat. The boy had one hand on the handle of the motor while he wobbled, struggling to regain his balance. I would have commented, but I was a little weirded out by the fact that Nicole's knee was brushing the boy's so closely.

Nicole followed my gaze, and a blush bloomed over the tanned skin of her face. She moved closer to the edge and raised an eyebrow. "If you two keep rocking the boat like that, we're gonna all go flying out, and—"

A boom of laughter from the boy next to me interrupted her. " _Rocking_ the boat? Nice word choice!" He turned to look at me, a smirk etched on his face. One hand rested on my shoulder. "Sorry, but I'm just not into that stuff."

It took me a minute to get the joke, and then I laughed too—softly though, uncomfortable from the hard stares of my sister and the boy next to her. They both shook their heads, diving back deeply into their cheerful conversation.

It had been two years since I'd been in the loony bin. A lot had changed. I had returned home from my "escape" to a very shocked Sam. He had taken me right back, allowing me to clean up from my run home. I still wasn't sure if I really could trust him until I had talked to him.

_"Daddy, why did you send me to a loony bin?" I had asked while stirring my spoon around in my soup. I liked the way the hot liquid swirled with the movements of the spoon, and it gave me a good reason to avoid looking at Sam._

_"Because I thought it was good for you," he told me. I frowned and didn't comment. Sam shook his head and pulled out the chair across from me, leaning his elbows on the table and ducking his head down to my level. He had stayed like that until I met his gaze._

_"You know I want what's best for you and your sister." He rested his warm hand over mine. "For my brother and your father. I might not have done the best job so far, but I'm trying. Sending you to that place was the wrong decision, and it was very . . . rash. I'm sorry."_

_I had nodded, forcing my frown away. My gaze dropped back to his hand, which was still resting on mine. The heat of his skin had been alarming; feverishly hot._

_"Are you sick?"_

_Sam chuckled and shook his head, taking his hand off of mine while he stood. "I'm fine, honey."_

Things had started to become good again after that. The year I was nine had been a little rough. But now I was ten, and things seemed smoother.

Coming home again and knowing Sam was there for me really did make a difference. But the real changing started with just an average cloudy day on the reservation. While out on a walk, we met someone who would change all of our lives.

He was just a lanky boy then, in the middle of his "awkward stage." He stuck close to his father, who rolled down the sidewalk in a wheelchair. I could remember tugging on Sam's hand and pointing curiously at the man while he rolled around. Sam simply shook his head, gently chastising my rude gesture. His words only made me grow more curious. I stared for a moment, realizing that the other man had probably noticed. The next thing I knew, the man was rolling toward us, calling Sam by name. His eyes were warm and circled with age, showing no anger whatsoever. I decided that he was okay, for an ancient.

After a few minutes of talking, I found out that the boy's dad knew Sam, as well as Nicole and me, addressing us as the Uley sisters. With him was his son, whom he'd introduced to Nicole and me. The boy was Jacob Black. Jacob and Nicole started talking instantly, and it seemed like they had never stopped since.

I still didn't talk much. Sam urged me out of the house, and I found myself following Jacob and Nicole around. They were both a year older than me, so I really didn't have any reason to hang around them. They always shut me out and ignored me. After following them around for a week, I gave up on trying to find company with them and spent most of my time out in La Push on First Beach. I kept my distance from Jacob and Nicole while I wasted time away. Things seemed to be going downhill until one night, out of nowhere, a kid ran right into me.

I fell on my butt in the soaking wet sand. The kid helped me up, and he apologized with a light joke about my height, claiming that he "hadn't seen me all the way down there" because I was small. I later learned the boy's name was Paul Lahote, and he was a pure Quileute living on the reservation. Even though he was nearly two years older than me, I got along much better with him than I did with Jacob, or even Nicole. I allowed myself to trust him and savor his company. Sam and Nicole were too busy for me, anyway.

Around that time, Sam was with a lady. Her name was Leah, a daughter of the Clearwater family, who also lived on the reservation. She seemed nice and pretty, but I didn't really like her all that much, for my own reasons. Then again, I had never spoken to her, so I wasn't really sure  _what_  to think of her. It was hard for me to talk to anyone, no matter how nice they were to me. With Nicole always out with her new best friend, there was nobody for me to talk to. My anger still roared inside of me, poisoning my mind. That was, until Paul. Paul was there for me, there to listen to my stories, there to take a walk on the beach and take my mind off things. I couldn't thank him for that, but the best I could do was at least be myself and not a blank mute.

"Okay, okay!" Paul's voice boomed. I glanced over at him, grinning at the tears of laughter in his eyes. "I'm done, I swear! C'mon Jordan!" He watched me with a smirk. "That was funny, right?"

"Oh, yeah." I shook my head, struggling to hold back my laughter when it tickled my throat. "Okay, Paul, just  _please_  don't fall in. I don't think anybody would wanna help you out, but you should be able to figure out how to come back in, anyway. Maybe."

Paul's eyes narrowed. "You callin' me dumb?"

For some reason, I nodded, and my smile spread wider. "Yes!"

"That's it!" Paul bellowed, launching himself at me.

I faked a terrified gasp and ducked. Just then, the boat rammed up against a wave. The front slid into the air and the side made a horrible screech while rock scraped the material. Paul, still in mid-lunge, tumbled headfirst off the front of the boat. This time, he couldn't catch himself. I could clearly hear the crash as he hit the water.

Then  _I_  was the one laughing until tears poured from my eyes.

Jacob and Nicole both hopped off the edge of the boat, trudging through knee-deep water. "Paul!" they shouted in unison. Their worried tones could barely be heard over the sound of my laughter.

A moment later, Paul shot up by the side of the boat. Aquatic plants hung down from his hair and shoulders. His light blue shirt was tainted a dark grey color, heavy with water. His eyes were as wide as baseballs, and his mouth hung open in shock.

"Woah!" Nicole screeched. She lifted her hands, protecting her face when Paul shook out his hair.

"Ew, keep that muck to yourself!" I grinned, hopping out of the boat. The water shocked me with a zap of cold. I shivered, but shook it off and hurried toward the shore, following after Jacob and Nicole.

"Oh no you don't!"

I glanced over my shoulder, only to see Paul charging toward me. His arm stretched out before him, his expression determined and covered with a mat of dripping hair.

He swung an arm at me. I guessed he was planning to catch me by my neck and drag me down. Instead, I bent my knees and hopped back up onto the rocky shore. I beamed in victory, sticking my tongue out when Paul scrambled to balance himself. Paul huffed and took a big leap on to the rocks. I tried to back up again, but my foot jammed in a rock and I tripped, falling on my back right on the layers of rock.

"Real smooth!" Paul was suddenly hovering over me, blocking my view. His eyes twinkled with amusement, and his teeth were pure white against his dark skin while he grinned.

I huffed. "Yeah, I'm working on that."

With another chuckle, Paul offered a hand. I took it, hauling myself up without much effort, and then quickly released his hand. I couldn't help but check his face for any signs of emotion, but I found nothing other than amusement.

"You guys better come! Jacob's already choked down half of the sandwiches!" Nicole's voice bounced off the rocks, sounding louder than it should. She raised a hand and gestured Paul and me over to where she and Jacob were sitting. They had found a suitable rock, one that was nearly flat across the top, and spread a blanket across it, smiling at each other and laughing over something Nicole just said.

When we neared, the sight of the picnic grew clearer. The spread of fluffy sandwiches and Cokes caused Paul to drool. He zoomed over to the rock and plopped down, snatching up a sandwich and stuffing it in his mouth. I stifled a laugh while I picked my way over the rocks. I wasn't hungry, anyway, and I felt a strong need to soak in my surroundings.

After a little while, I finally reached where the three of them had settled down.

"I saved you a sandwich!" Paul announced in a boom. The sound echoed around the empty clearing, and crumbs spewed from his mouth.

"Sorry that there isn't much left, Jord. There would be more," he continued while I settled next to him, "but Jake decided to keep them all for himself." His gaze flickered between Jacob and Nicole for a moment until he leaned into my ear, whispering so both of them could still hear. "Probably trying to show off to his missy over there."

I almost choked on a lump of bread. Nicole covered her mouth to keep the food from flying everywhere while she scoffed. Jacob was silent. His jaw worked while he chewed, his frosty glare filled with enough coldness that he didn't need to speak his thoughts to make Paul grin and raise his hands in defeat.

Tired from the early morning and struggle over the maze of rocks, I laughed and kept all comments to myself. My stomach roared again, ordering me to hurry up with my sandwich already. I was quick to fill my mouth.

We were all quiet for a few moments, our eyes still on Jacob. He took advantage of the attention and swooped up his Coke, bringing it to his lips and chugging it down. He was sure to make a noisy sigh of satisfaction when he finished.

"Gross!" Nicole shoved Jacob's shoulder lightly, playfully scolding him. He bumped into Paul, who crashed into me. The weight of his body was enough to make me nearly splat right onto a rock. One of Paul's arms caught me and pulled me back up next to him. I could feel his arm brush mine when he patted my knee.

"Sorry about that." His apology was sincere, but it was muffled by his food. "There's not much room since Jacob's taking up the space and pigging out like a fat ass."

"Hey!" Jacob growled. He hopped up, swinging an arm at Paul.

Paul ducked and jumped behind Jacob, bringing his closed fists to his face while he hopped around on the rocks like a boxer. "That's all you got, Black? You fight like a ballerina! Guess that means you wanna dance!"

Jacob grunted and threw his fist toward Paul's face again. I was sure the punch would knock the cocky smirk right off Paul's face, but once again he dodged it, appearing behind Jacob. I grinned as Paul's russet arm locked around Jacob's neck and his fist scrubbed against Jacob's hair. After Jacob knocked him down, the whole thing started all over again.

I smiled and watched, munching on my sandwich. If I knew how to fight, I would be right in between them, fighting on Paul's side. But fighting wasn't really "lady-like," as Sam put it. He wouldn't bother to at least try to teach me. I would have to learn on my own someday.

Shaking my head, I looked up at Paul and Jacob, who were still engaged in their fight. That was when I realized Nicole was completely silent. I turned my head to look at her.

She was sitting perfectly straight on the boulder, her shoulders bunched up and stiff. Her hands were frozen, still reaching for the sandwich. Nicole wasn't moving or speaking. I wasn't even sure she was breathing.

Alarm flared inside me, bright, hot, and wild. I jumped up next to her and stared into the forest. At first, I was confused. There was nothing out there but the swaying trees and a whole bunch of green. My eyes scanned the forest again. Once, twice . . . and then I saw it.

Two blotches of crimson stuck out in the green of the forest. They were eyes, no doubt. Cold and hollow, empty of emotion. I knew those eyes.

My stomach dropped as if someone had punched iron fists straight into it. I stood, completely frozen. Words buzzed through my mind, but they wouldn't push past the sawdust taste on my tongue. I opened my mouth, taking a minute of crushing silence until the only word I could think of choked out.

"Paul," I rasped, trying to find my voice.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him spin around to face me, raising one hand to stop Jacob, who smacked into his palm with an irritated grunt. Paul's chest continued to rise and fall to the beat of his breathing. His eyes were still bright, but the grin on his face faded quickly.

Noticing Nicole and my stances, Paul and Jacob exchanged a glance before they took one giant leap over to us. Two warm hands clasped my shoulders and tried to shake me back into reality.

"What's up with you?" Paul demanded. I didn't hear him. His voice was lost in a wave of thoughts. My body and mind were stuck somewhere back seven years ago, and I was unresponsive.

"Jake," Nicole murmured what seemed like an eternity later, although only a few moments had passed. "We need to run, now."

There was a small movement. Jacob raised his head. His eyes skimmed across the forest, his jaw visibly tight. Paul did the same, his breath clouding around my ear.

We didn't have time to hesitate.

Like rockets on a race to the moon, we were off. My feet were slippery on the rocks; I was falling behind quickly. My heart was racing just as fast as the images scrolling before my mind. Blood splattering windows; limp bodies on the ground. I shuddered when I pictured those crimson eyes, glaring at me, empty and cold. . .

"Watch out!"

I snapped my head up, trying to see through the thin cloud of my breath. Jacob pointed to the trees and then ducked down, pulling his rumpled, dirty sweatshirt up to protect Nicole from the shower of debris raining down on them. Paul was right on their heels, shoving them back up and urging them along. With heart-stopping panic, I realized I was too far behind.

"Paul!" I called out. There was no answer.

A flash of white zipped by me. My already dangerously high heartbeat set into a new racing beat. Was it really a monster? Breath clogged in my throat when the flash circled me like a churning tornado. My thoughts were jumbled, unable to tell me what to do. Blinking was the only reaction there was time for. The next thing I knew, the flash forced me down into the rock with incredible strength. Pain exploded in my back and rushed through my body.

Black dots swam around my vision. I sucked in another breath and gathered my voice. "PA—!"

Two arms locked under my own, cutting off my voice. I thrashed and kicked, waving my arms like crazy. There was no way I was going to die here, at least not without a fight.

"Chill out, I'm not gonna hurt you. You know that," the hushed voice of my attacker murmured. Through the breathless huffs, I recognized the tone of Paul's voice.

Instantly, my body fell limp. I relaxed into the familiar, warm grip pulling me along. He was here. Paul was here, okay, and alive. Everything was going to be fine.

Right?

"Come on," Paul pleaded in a strained voice. His words dragged through my mind, processing slowly through the thick wall of terror. I was far below the point of being able to change words into actions.

"We have to run now, Jordan! That  _thing_ is coming again!"

Those words were enough to snap me right back into action. Air swarmed into my lungs when I gulped it down. The wall of terror I had built in my mind to protect me from going crazy crumbled when the waves of adrenaline blasted through. My body shot up, and one hand reached back to brush Paul's while he shifted his weight back away from me, no longer needing to support my body.

Right then, the flash blurred by us. A branch snapped somewhere behind me. Paul pivoted to press his back against mine. "I've got your back," he whispered.

The white flash zoomed in front of me again. The breeze from the speed tossed my hair around. Heat spread throughout my body, gathering at my palms in a thin sweat. Guessing the heat was signaling another sudden reaction, I tried my best to ignore it and focus on Paul's presence. We couldn't run, not against this. All we could do was stand together and hope for the best.

Paul's hand suddenly wrapped around my own. He squeezed it tightly—a wordless reassurance. The heat ebbed away.

Both of us were locked in terrified silence. I counted the seconds away in my head, working my mind to keep the heat from rising enough to drag me into a meltdown. Breathe and count.

…Four.

…Five.

…Six.

…Sev—

_Boom!_

Out of nowhere, the flash struck again, knocking me down. My spinning vision barely made out Paul being thrown into a tree with a hard smack at least ten feet away. He was shouting words I had never even heard before, dizzily pushing himself back up, only to fall again.

"No! Kill it!" I shrieked. I jumped back to my feet and ignored the bombs of pain inside of me. "You have to get it!"

The replying hiss froze my blood. A chill shot through my bones and muscles, turning me to ice. My eyes stared up into the sun. My body shook while the heat baked over my face. Leaves crunched as the monster moved towards me. I closed my eyes, holding my breath.

A sudden snarl interrupted the moment. It wasn't the same tone as the sharp hiss of the vampire. It was more like a low, deep rumble. I cracked open an eye, curiosity taking over.

A huge black form towered over the white blur. Time sped up again, and the heroic thing gave another growl before disappearing again. The monster from my nightmare was gone with it.

I blinked. Somehow, that black blur tugged on my memories. I searched through my shifting thoughts, but my mind was too worn out to connect the dots. After I let out an exhausted sigh, the forest went silent.

"What was that?" Paul yelled as he trudged towards me.

I leaned forward, the clarity of his voice surprising me. In that second, all my thoughts picked up and my heart set back into its usual rhythm while the shock subsided. Not having words, I angled by body toward him, confusion heavy in my head. "I'm not sure."

"Whatever it was, it was pretty damn awesome!" Paul grinned and nodded in agreement with me. "But you look kinda . . . shaky?"

"You're alive!"

Paul and I nearly jumped out of our skin, both of us whirling to face Jacob and Nicole when they sped toward us. I had forgotten about both of them in the rush of things. With a quick glance, I noticed both of them had mud streaked on their faces and clothes, but they were otherwise fine. Jacob clenched a phone in his right hand.

Nicole opened her mouth as if to question us, but she didn't get the chance. Paul stepped forward and shoved his hands against Jacob's chest, knocking him to the ground with a thud. I almost told him it wasn't time to mess around, but his firmly set jaw and slanted eyes told me not to bother.

"What the hell, man? You just left us like that outta nowhere?" His voice was raised and shaking.

Jacob blinked away the shock before he jumped up, fists raised. He planted a nice punch right on Paul's nose. "We went for help!"

Inhaling deeply, Paul gathered himself together and repeatedly slammed his fists into Jacob's gut, his teeth showing slightly in anger. Jacob's face twisted with pain, and his knees dropped. Sweat and dirt flew out of his hair.

"But  _forgot_  us? We could have  _died_ out there!"

Paul's voice echoed, the veins in his throat clearly visible. Not wanting to have them pound each other flat, I shoved myself in between them and put a hand in front of Paul, warning him to keep back. He made a small huff of annoyance, but he didn't move.

Sweating and breathing hard, Jacob threw up a hand at Paul. "What was that for?"

I raised an eyebrow at his challenging tone, but Jacob made no attempt to move and start a fight all over again. From the corner of my eye, I watched Paul rock back on his heels and pause as if trying to find the answer himself. Apparently he was just as freaked as we all were.

Silently, Nicole took Jacob's arm and helped him up. We all stared at each other in silence until the coughing of a motor sounded in the distance. A moment later, Sam's truck bumped its way through the trees on a crowded path and stopped in front of us. The doors swung open and a man hopped out, wobbling over to us while he made his way over the bumpy terrain.

I recognized him as Harry Clearwater, one of the elders. He laid a hand on Jacob's shoulder and looked at all of us with a concerned expression. "Are there any serious injuries?"

Jacob shook his head, his eyes set on Paul. Harry followed his gaze and waited for Paul to confirm. He nodded. "What are you doing here? I don't think you'd be randomly driving around here."

"Jacob called Billy and said he needed help." Harry gestured an aged hand back to the truck. Squinting to see past the tinted windows, I noticed Jacob's dad, Billy Black, seated in the front seat. He was studying us all with a concerned expression.

Nobody moved or said anything. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well. . . Sue made lunch, and I'm sure you kids are hungry. Do you want to come back for a bite?"

"I'm up for some grub," Paul announced with a grin. All eyes set on him, as if wondering if his mood swing was a good or bad thing. He shrugged and started for the truck.

I glanced around and copied him. Jacob and Nicole followed behind us with Harry trailing behind. The hunger inside me made itself known by a grumble, and I caught Paul glancing at me with a smile. I shoved him, causing him to stumble before he caught his hand on the door. Nicole gave a laugh, but it faded quickly into silence.

We all jumped in the car and drove off with the boat still parked on the bank, forgotten. Hungry and confused as I was, I still couldn't stop thinking of the crimson eyes, cold and hollow, empty of emotion. I could only hope it was all in my head, and that the creature didn't follow me here to haunt me all over again. I knew I had to do something about this, but I was just a girl, and while I was just a girl, that would be impossible. My gaze turned to Paul, Jacob, and Nicole, huddled in the seat, all staring at me. Their expressions seemed to match my thoughts.

It was then when I realized that the easy, simple times in life would never last.


	5. Runaway

_"What I fear and what I try_  
 _The words I say and what I hide  
All the pain, I want it to end_  
 _But I want it again."_  - Red.

* * *

Chapter Five

Runaway

_January 21st, 2002._

* * *

If I'd noticed anything in the last few months, it would be that all people are  _very_  fragile. They could feel as if they were on top of the world one moment, but at the same time, they could snap in the blink of an eye. In my case, there was no time for snapping. I needed answers. I needed to put everything behind me. That was why I had chosen independence in the first place.

The decision to take off for a while wasn't a decision of any sort. It wasn't even an idea. The horror and struggle of every waking hour hadn't driven me away. I was almost healing by the time I was ten.

Being around Paul and Nicole and Jacob was enough to give me some good memories to hang on to. That is, other than the serious scowls worn on Jacob and Nicole's expressions while Paul and I messed around. They weren't always as fun as Paul and I were. Neither Paul nor I cared if they grew irritated when we lost our seriousness, because we both needed silly distractions to keep our bad feelings away.

Paul understood the need for distractions because he had to deal with his bastard of a father. The man pushed and prodded and pressured Paul's emotions to a breaking point. Paul's temper wasn't one to be questioned; his life was much too stressful already. It was stressful enough that sometimes he would stay over at my house later than any boy should have. On those nights, I could fall asleep with my head on his shoulder and feel at peace.

The peace and happiness didn't last forever, of course. The leaves had fallen, and the days had shortened while the cold crept in. Winter came early that year, and with it came loss. Paul's visits grew shorter and shorter until school, his friends, and providing for himself left him no time to spare with me. Without him to distract me, the memories burned like bubbling acid behind my lids—blood on the wall; glass on the floor; death in the air. And those eyes, cold and hollow, empty of emotion. All of it was there, all the time.

Even after all those years, my life was still haunted by the memories of  _that_  night. I couldn't sleep without getting up about a billion times to make sure Sam and Nicole were still alive. Life was pretty much going downhill. I had never considered independently working on my own to fix myself. It didn't have anything to do with my age as much as how I had too much on my mind. It was when a certain package arrived that I realized independence was what I needed.

I got it on a Tuesday. Instead of taking the bus, I'd followed Nicole home from school. We'd talked briefly, but our conversation ended when she suggested that we cut through the woods. I didn't want to go through the woods while darkness was falling, knowing that any creature could be lurking in the shadows.

"Oh, come on! There's nothing out here!" Nicole had turned in a circle, her hands raised for emphasis.

"No." I'd stubbornly glared at her. "I'm not going. You're just taking another shortcut to go prance around with Jacob Black, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "So?"

"I don't like Jacob."

"Why? He's funny and smart and . . . cool! His mom died too, you know. He understands how  _that_  works." Her arms crossed stubbornly as she spoke.

Although I felt a little sympathy, I sensed the way the conversation was heading. Not wanting to argue or get all emotional, I'd spun around and continued to march home, leaving her to shake her head and run into the woods without me. She would rather be with Jacob than me, anyway. It didn't bother me—I had long since gotten used to that sort of treatment.

Eventually, I'd stormed back into Sam's house, mumbling nonsense to myself. I threw my fluffy coat against the wall, listening to the soft thud it made on impact. My bag followed shortly after. With the weight off my shoulders, I allowed a relieved breath to pass through my mouth.

I slowly made my way into the kitchen, peeking around the wall. Sam stood in front of the counter, his shoulders bent forward so he didn't hit his head. He was talking to himself while throwing together many different foods to create a sandwich. At least, it looked like a sandwich, although it may have been something else.

"Hello?" My voice was slow, careful. I wasn't sure if Sam wanted to be left alone or if he just hadn't noticed me yet.

Sam jumped, his eyes wide. He whipped around, his arms braced on the counter and his chest risen in surprise while he took a deep breath. I jumped too, stumbling on the slick floor and nearly crashing to the ground. Sam was by my side in an instant, helping me back to my feet. I could feel the tremble in his hands.

"Sorry, honey, I didn't expect you to come home so soon." Sam's tone was overly apologetic. "Nicole said you two were going to Jacob's after school."

"Do I need to translate?" I lifted my head and looked up at Sam, frowning. He was so clueless at times. I sighed and mocked Nicole's voice as closely as I could. "I'm going to tell you that I'm going to Jacob's with my sister so that you let me leave the house, but really, I'll be ditching her. You wouldn't let me go if I didn't say that I would bring my sister because you're trying so hard to get us closer while Paul is busy with 'exams.'"

Sam was silent for a moment. He frowned, and a crease appeared in between his brow.

"I'll make sure she's punished for it. I'm sorry that she's treating you like this. I—"

"I don't care that she ditches me, Sam. Really, it's okay. Don't bother. We're sisters, and sisters act like this all the time. It's normal."

"But—"

"No."

I met Sam's gaze, watching his expression turn confused. He was quiet for a few minutes, and then he finally nodded and stood. "All right, all right. But I have something else I need to talk to you about."

I groaned. "Please tell me it's not 'The Talk,' or something." I made air quotes with my fingers.

Sam's eyes bulged wide and he swallowed. Through his russet skin, I could see the red blush of embarrassment creeping onto his face. "No!"

I couldn't help but snort at the expression. I loved it when he acted like this—not so serious. I shrugged and waited for him to continue.

"It's more to show you something. No . . . talking." Sam shook his head, offering one of his hands and letting me hold it with both of mine, just like he did when I was younger. He led me to the porch. I laughed quietly to myself the whole way, still thinking of his blush.

The cold bit at my exposed skin, but I ignored it. Standing close to Sam kept me warm enough. I watched him curiously while he fumbled through his pockets.

After a few moments, Sam settled down on the porch step. He patted his hand on the space next to him. I hopped onto the first stair and sat next to him, my curiosity growing stronger. Did something happen? My thoughts instantly flashed to Paul, and my heart froze.

Sam didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled out a thin silver chain from his pocket. It seemed to keep coming, as if the tiny chain went on forever. But eventually, it stopped, and Sam held the necklace in his curled fist.

"You got me a present?" I asked slowly. Why did I need a present? My birthday had passed a while ago, and I hadn't done anything to deserve such a present. Unless this was his way of making up for my time spent alone.

"No, I wasn't the one to get this." Sam smiled while he studied the necklace. I had the odd feeling of being left out of something.

"Hold out your hands," Sam instructed me, his gaze steady on mine. I did as he asked, cupping my hands together in front of me. He leaned over my hands to block my view while his fingers worked with the little heart on the end of the necklace. When he moved back, the heart had popped open. It was a locket.

"Thanks, Sam." I nodded to him in appreciation, although I was still clueless about what the necklace was for. He didn't answer; he only kept watching me. I turned my gaze back down to check out the necklace, but froze the second my eyes recognized the faces of the pictures shaped into the locket.

My mother and father stared back at me, both of them with wide, warm smiles. On the left side of the locket, my mother laughed while she worked with pots and pans, looking happy as ever. On the right, my father posed for the camera, one of his eyes closed in a wink while he pointed at the camera.

"It's . . . it's. . ." I stuttered through my words, not sure what I was trying to say.

Sam exhaled slowly, placing an arm around my shoulders. I hunched over the necklace, studying it closely. We were silent for a moment.

"I found it at the old house. It was something I thought you might want to have."

I nodded once, my thoughts starting to sort themselves again. "You went back to Alaska?" I paused, realizing that was impossible. He never had left, and there was no way a plane could have taken him there and back in a day. Not to mention Sam wouldn't have the finances to do so, if it were possible.

"Actually, you weren't born in Alaska."

I blinked once, head snapping up to look at Sam. My heart started to sink. "I was adopted?"

"No, no, no." Sam groaned, pulling his arm back around and placing his head in his hands. "Your father, my half-brother, was Quileute too. Your mother wasn't. But you were never in Alaska. You've always lived here, on the reservation."

I continued to stare at Sam, not sure why he seemed so upset. As long as I wasn't adopted, I was okay with him showing me, but I wasn't sure if I could really bear looking at the locket again. I was silent as I waited for him to continue.

"You were always asking to see them. I told you that you couldn't. I thought that you would heal if I cut off all ties to your parents. I wasn't sure if you could see the memories."

My mind processed what he was saying. "That means that I could still go back. I could still go back to find the house again…"

"It might not be there, Jordan, and I don't want you to be crushed—"

"Just tell me where it is!" I blurted.

Sam's eyes widened slightly, but he shook his head and let it go. "It should be just outside the main village, down by the creek."

I didn't wait. I stood and jumped off the porch, racing into the woods. Sam shouted after me, but I couldn't hear the words over the roaring in my ears. I kept going, leaving the locket in the tangles of snow covered grass behind me. I had been filled with hope that I might see my mother or father, or even a trace of them.

I could end it all now.

()()()

I ran and hid. The motions became habit, repetitive. Something inside me led me through the winding trees. I didn't know where to. I had a hope in my heart. Mommy and Daddy could still be out here somewhere. My parents could still be alive.

It was really another round of denial. Though I didn't know it at the time, this was just another way to cope with the thorn of loss that was still buried in my side. To run and search with a senseless hope for a lost cause. It was the only chance I had to feel better. Naturally, that was what I hoped to do.

The series of trails running through the rez were my guide. I would find one and march out a few hundred paces, trying to follow it straight without getting caught. I would only start when the sun went down. Keeping myself moving fought off the cold of the night and made the dark feel less suffocating. The forest was never-ending and I spent many nights with a growling stomach, chapped lips, and freezing toes. I learned as I went, marching on and on while nature taught me her tricks.

Eventually, the trails gave way to a village of houses. To make sure I wouldn't get caught, I waited in the forest for a few days to figure out how much attention these people paid to visitors. I did sneak through the unguarded gates a few times before I began my search, but only to snatch a spare water bottle or scrap of food thrown to waste. After finding the village people to be the kind to ignore everything except what they were doing, I started exploring the outside of the village to search for any signs of abandoned life. I wandered through the ground-down dirt road and headed through the forest, all the way down to the creek. There was nothing there, nothing but a single block of wood. Denial overcame me, and I headed right back into the main village to come out the next day. The shelters there weren't anything like the house I'd remembered—they were leaky, dirty, and made up of one room. It was impossible for any of these to have the one I'd begun my life in.

I had stayed in the main village for a few more sunrises and sunsets despite the failure, mostly to keep my stomach from growling at me too much. Independence wasn't as simple as I'd thought it would be, and my hope shrunk as quickly as my stomach.

I brought my trembling hands, heavy like ice cubes and just as cold even beneath the mittens, up to my mouth and nose. My lips parted slightly as I breathed out shaky breaths onto my hands while exhaling on them. The trick was supposed to warm my hands up, but so far, it wasn't working. It wasn't like I could sneak into one of the many houses to warm up; they were so small, I probably wouldn't fit with the family. So, I suffered in silence.

Really, this place wasn't all that bad. The village was beautiful, but deadly. Snow piled in random puffs of white, covering the ground while killing the soft grass below with its heavy layers. Ice spiked off any surface it could, choking out all other foliage. The chill ruled the winter landscape, stripping away at the village until it was bare, the poverty revealed.

The cold made me realize that I must not have been born in Alaska. I could never put up with the cold like this forever. I shuddered just at the thought of being trapped in a land of ice for my whole life.

I started to come out of my own little thought bubble when I felt eyes on me. My shivering had caught some kid's attention. He stood across the street, staring at me, not even bothering to hide it. The kid turned and tugged on his mother's long coat, his mouth moving when he told her something that I couldn't hear.

My stomach flipped with nerves. I pulled the coat I'd stolen from somebody's porch over my neck, hiding under my dark hair. Getting caught was the last thing I wanted. I swallowed hard, looking for something to make myself look busy. A gust of wind shot through the air, causing a paper to flutter across the ground. I was quick to snatch up the rolling newspaper before it got out of reach. I glanced over at the staring mother and son, and then readjusted the coat. My eyes were instantly attracted, probably by the bold headline.

I wasn't surprised. There'd been many other newspapers I'd snatched up and many had featured a paragraph with my name. Sam had made a mistake to report me missing a few days after my departure—the cops were bored and went way overboard. They questioned my elementary teacher. She said I was quiet, keeping to myself, and although I didn't get the highest quiz scores, I could take care of myself. One of the few classmates that I remembered, a boy named Elijah Clearwater, told a reporter how his friends would pick on me for being short. I'd frowned at that. Elijah picked on me too—he always wanted to know why my stupid eyes wouldn't stop trying to be blue and just be brown.

Maybe it was a different kid, though. I didn't know many people at all because I really did keep to myself. The writers listed signs of children who developed mental problems, stating that I showed many of the signs. There was nothing about the Cold Ones, though, or about Mommy and Daddy. The best information they had about me was some short answers from Sam, Nicole, and Jacob's family along with a crappy drawing that looked nothing like me.

Still, I braced myself. I took a deep breath and let it go before I looked down at the dulled words and began to read.

_It has been announced in late November of this year that Jordan Uley, age ten, is missing. The report was filed earlier in the month, but investigations came to dead ends, and it is now believed that the girl may be on the loose with plans of her own. She carries a record of admission to a nearby mental hospital, which does not improve the outlook of her case._

_Due to the scarcity of evidence, it is believed that foul play may be involved with the reason of her disappearance. Miss Uley's guardian and close friends have denied us any further information even with authorities pressuring them, bringing up the possibility of bad intentions._

_As of now, nothing is known of her whereabouts. But, if there really is a mentally disturbed young girl running about, you might want to lock your doors at night!_

I had to squint to read the tiny print at the bottom of the article, but I could barely make out the words "privacy is ignored so that the general public may take further precautions while this situations causes them to be at risk," or something like that. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. So the press on the reservation thought that I was a wacko murderer? Guess their paper's sales had really been slacking lately.

My lips were turning into a soft smile in response to my thoughts as I raised my gaze. I froze right then as I realized that somebody was staring at me, the smile twisting down into a frown. Had yet another family stopped to stare at me? My gaze flickered around, finding the streets empty, with the exception of my new audience. It seemed like I had drawn in more attention. The pair of watchful eyes belonged to a teen boy who was bundled up with loose, dark-wash jeans, and a coat. Even though he was huddled up pretty well, I could still see the distinct shape of Paul's face peeking out from over the brim of his coat. I looked closer, only to see that he his gaze went right past me. I didn't know how long he'd been there, but I could see that he was shaking, and his left eye was swollen, rimmed by an ugly purple ring.

Paul stood on the sidewalk outside of a house that seemed to be broken, leaning down toward the ground. He shivered and shook harder. Looking even closer, I could see that his lip was split, too. He'd been in a fight, but with whom?

I couldn't make much sense of it. When I would pass Paul in the hallways in school, he'd always been circled by a bunch of friends his age. He didn't have any trouble fitting in at all, and he seemed to be the center of attention. Sure, he didn't get along with everybody, but he was overall a nice guy. I couldn't see him hurting somebody.

Paul's gaze was frozen while he pulled his arms, covered with a coat so thin I could see the outline of his biceps, closer around his body. He continued to stare until the door he was waiting by swung open. Jumping back, Paul quickly tried to make it look as if he hadn't been watching me, or whatever he had fixed his gaze on. He stumbled in the process before a round man with a gleaming badge on his chest stepped out.

The man chuckled when Paul scrambled over the ice. Paul huffed once, quick to catch his balance. Even with the man towering over him, he still stood with his chin up and chest out, as if he'd seen a lot more of a challenge. I admired him for his tough and fearless appearance, but I still knew that looking so confident was the wrong thing to do.

"C'mon now, son," the man, whom I'd thought to be a village official, muttered. "We still got some business to attend to."

With that, he grabbed Paul by the neck and shoved him through the door, way too roughly. I could only see Paul's dark eyes dart in my direction before he stumbled out of view. The man followed, slamming the door behind him. I flinched at the loud crash it made.

This still didn't make any sense. Paul looking like he'd been in a serious fight? Officials at Paul's house? What was happening? Why would the police be at Paul's house? Was it my fault?

Suddenly, it all made sense—the black eye, the officials, my disappearance. I remembered a line from the newspaper:

_"Miss Uley's guardian and close friends have denied us any further information even with authorities pressuring them. . ."_

The whole reservation must be taking this whole thing pretty seriously, if they would beat a thirteen—nearly fourteen—year old boy to try to force answers out of him. My stomach rolled, bile rising in my throat while I pictured the official striking Paul in the face when he refused to give information that he didn't even have.

I had to do something. I knew running was a bad idea, but for now, it was the only thing to do. I might not be the brightest girl, but I knew that losing myself and ending up in the loony bin again was not an option. I had to do something to help myself the only person who completely understood me.

Sam, Nicole, and Paul would understand. Paul would fight back against them, knowing I needed time. I would fight too. I would fight until someday, I would be able to taken on a Cold Man. I needed a way to get revenge, and the only thing I could do was fight.

My first step was learning exactly how to do that.

Confidence rising, I stood. My gaze swept the roads, studying each house down the dusty row. Darkness was settling, and the streets were vacant. People were shutting their houses down for the night. It was a perfect time to move.

Getting out of here seemed to be a good idea. But first, I needed to do something. I fumbled around until I found the newspaper and I crumpled it in my hands. I then ripped off a strip and knelt, using my sharp fingernail to scratch a little 'J' in the paper. Maybe the officials would get the hint and they would come after me.

_Let them come!_  I thought to myself.

I needed to move. Just in case I had an unwanted audience, I glanced around one more time. When I was sure that there was no sign of movement or life in the winter-swept streets, I leapt up the four-step porch and stuffed the paper under the door. In another moment, I threw myself off the porch. My skinny legs set off at a steady jog the instant my feet touched the ground, following the snow-dusted path the best I could with stinging eyes. I wanted to find the house again, to have a chance to say my goodbyes. After that, I would learn to fight, and once I grew skilled and strong, I would fight.

 


	6. Clicked

_"Take all the courage you have left_  
Wasted on fixing all the problems  
That you made in your own head." - Mumford & Sons.

* * *

Chapter Six

Dead Ends and Dead Roses

_March 13th, 2003._

* * *

"I've been out here for a while. I'm not sure how long it's been. I'm not a runaway. I'm out here for a reason. Many people—almost everyone—thinks I'm crazy. Maybe I am."

The words came effortlessly, flowing from my mind to my mouth. I hadn't spoken much ever since I had left; my voice squeaked and cracked often, making me sound younger, despite my serious tone. I spoke to a voice—it had never been more than just a voice. Ever since I had left to be on my own, I'd heard the voice speaking to me. It always used the same feminine tone, never raised above a whisper. Sometimes, when I talked, the voice didn't answer, but other times, it did. I swore I could hear the slightest movement whenever the voice was around; I swore I could feel the slightest warmth of breath against my skin.

Even if the voice was a real person, it didn't have any problem hiding. I'd made a habit of traveling by night, never leaving the shadows. It was safer that way. The voice seemed to realize that, too. Its presence never bothered me, but I didn't appreciate it, either. I merely tolerated the sound of it, as long as it didn't cause any issues. Or maybe I  _was_  crazy and the voice was nothing more than my own thoughts, brought alive by my troubled mind. I couldn't really care less.

Still, the sound of my voice didn't bother me. Neither was the sound of another voice. I was focused on something else completely, my attention undivided.

Four boys hovered in the near distance, their eyes on me. They strolled toward me at their own pace, as if they had all the time in the world. When they came into full view, the moonlight captured their figures, exposing their features. They stood out from any ordinary group of men: their skin was masked in grime and bristles of hair; their cutoffs hung so low that they swooped beneath their hips. It was a miracle they hadn't fallen to their ankles.

Each of them sported ratty sneakers and didn't bother with shirts, showing off their bare, muscular torsos. I knew enough to understand that they didn't wear shirts in order to seem more threatening. Each boy had the same haircut: their dark hair was cropped except for a section of bangs—the style was a symbol of which gang they belonged to. Underneath the shadow cast by their hair, I could see their brown eyes darkening with amusement and anticipation. I fearlessly stood my ground, letting them come to me.

"But why would you come here?" The voice spoke softly, almost as if it were afraid the boys would overhear. The voice was—as usual—dressed in the darkness of the alley, completely invisible to me. I felt even more sure that the voice was another trick of my own mind.

"I needed to learn to fight. The guy that was leading the gang . . . I think you call him Z. He offered lessons, food, and protection, in exchange for secrecy."

"So, you're the girl they always talk about. The one that they found hiding in the village."

I gave a stiff nod, my eyes locked on the boys. "They're greedy."

"Oh. That's very sad. Did. . . Did they lie about the fighting lessons, too?"

"Just watch," I murmured curtly. The boys were in ear shot now—I couldn't risk speaking again.

In the time it took me to breathe out my last few words, the boys had formed a loose circle around me. Many pairs of eyes roamed over my figure, taking in the fading bumps and bruises. The smugness in the gazes were proof that each boy was shallow enough to think the injuries were signs of many pathetic losses instead of many marks of a grueling education.

They pressed against the rotting walls on either side of the alley, but they were still much too close for comfort. Their breaths swirled around me while their height blocked out most of the moonlight. They were attempting to intimidate me, and not doing a very good job at it. The only thing scary about them was the rotten stink of their breath.

"She's a scrawny lil' one. I hear she's one of Z's." The boy farthest from me broke the heavy silence after a few moments. He looked me up and down when he spoke. Another behind me laughed. The two others made no response. Their bodies were mostly hidden by the shadows, but I could see the firm set of their jaws and knew they meant business.

"Aw, yeah, what a  _cutie_." The second boy chortled to himself. "How you think she made it in?"

"I dunno, man, but she ain't nothin' more than a toothpick. Wonder how they'd react to a couple of bruises on her skin? Maybe Boss will pay us?"

There was a pause before the boy snorted and replied, "Bull. Won't pay a damn dime. I say we bust her up to let Z know we're still around; maybe even to piss him off. 'Bout time we had a lil' fun."

I stayed frozen. My breathing was light and quick, filled with fake fear. They talked as if I wasn't there, as if they would easily beat me up and be on their way. They were much too cocky for their own good. I quickly took advantage of that when they attacked.

The first boy who had just spoken seemed to be the leader. He gave a silent signal, just a flick of his dark eyes, and the two silent boys lunged at me. I dropped my foot back, knowing that my strength was useless against them; size and speed were my advantage. My body bent back as they jumped. My hands met the rough ground, which was cold, wet, and soaked with fresh rainwater. A pebble pierced my palm, but the sharp pain served as a silent reminder to keep moving. I rolled down onto the ground, following through with my movement. The boys gave an angry, pained shout as their heads collided in mid-air.

A heartbeat later, their bodies thumped to the ground, motionless. The force of their heads knocking together had knocked them out cold. I had expected as much—they seemed pretty thick-headed.

The boy who was second to speak made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a cough. He blinked rapidly and gaped at the motionless figures. His pause gave me enough time to check my surroundings. My eyes glanced around and caught the lunge of the other boy a second before it was too late.

From behind me, the first boy jumped at me, his hand outstretched. His jaw popped out, tightened with frustration. Sweat shined on his forehead, and his eyes were alive with fury.

I felt the wind of his hand when it swooped by me, but I was faster. I ducked down and grabbed his left leg, yanking it out from under him. His head drove hard into the pavement with a crack. His arms flailed as he tried his best to knock me down, but he was blind to his movements and missed every time. I stood and watched defensively until he lay still. The sound of the second boy's footsteps faded into the distance—he had fled.

What a wimp.

"Impressive." The girl's voice complimented me softly a few moments later. A hushed giggle followed.

"Yeah." I gave a nod, and then paused, tilting my head and listening for at least breathing, or shuffling feet, or something. When I heard nothing, I frowned and rubbed my forehead. I started to make my way out of the alley, toward the moonlight. It was quiet until the voice spoke again.

"I can see you can fight, but why are you alone?" she asked me.

I picked up my pace, trying to get to the light before the rolling clouds blocked it out. "I'm getting out of here." My answer was short. Clipped, even. I didn't need to explain why.

I could feel it in the gang. There was tension between each of them whenever one of them made the smallest movement; tension fueled the by the fear of never knowing who to trust. In the pit of my stomach, I knew it wasn't where I was meant to be. I could fight; I could be on my own. I wasn't dependent, and my desire to search had died out. I just . . . I needed to think, and. . .

"I need to get your voice out of my head," I muttered.

"But—"

"Shut up!" I shoved my hands over my ears. My pace picked up as I reached the end of the alley. "Shut up! Stupid voice, get out of my head!"

I stepped into the circle of pale light gleaming under the lamppost, glad when there wasn't any reply. I glanced around, using all of my senses pick out any sign of life, any sign of a girl, any sign of someone who might have been talking to me.

There was only silence.

I let out a short breath and swerved to the left. I let my damp hair flow out behind me, gleaming under the dull streetlights. I wasn't leaning on anybody, from my family to the gang. I didn't need them; I was independent.

And I most definitely didn't need to be hearing voices in my head.

"Wait! Wait, don't go yet!"

My heart thumped rapidly when I heard the voice. God, I really  _was_  crazy. I skidded to a stop, my feet scraping on the sidewalk. My eyes narrowed at the sound of soft footsteps on the sidewalk behind me. My head snapped back to look over my shoulder.

A girl was racing down the sidewalk toward me. Her small hand was raised in front of her face to protect her dark eyes from the small rays of the lamplight. Her hair, blackened to its deepest hue, blew wildly with every step. She was small, too, probably eight years old at the most. Even though I had never seen her before, I knew who the girl was even before I heard the sound of her voice.

"You aren't crazy! You aren't! I'm not just a voice." The girl wheezed as she stopped in front of me, her dark eyes round as they adjusted to the light.

I stared back at her, my eyes still narrowed with suspicion. I had probably fallen asleep without realizing it. Again. "So . . . I haven't been talking to myself?"

"No." Her pink lips turned up in the corners in a smile. One little hand slipped out of the grey, soiled sweatshirt she was wearing and took my own. I had an urge to shiver but held it back.

"This is my life, because Z is my big brother. He's a good brother—he takes care of me. This is my life, but you don't fit in, just like . . . like pretty roses don't go with dead roses." She smiled. "I think you need to go. Good luck."

The girl gave me one last smile, one that reached into her dark eyes. Then she was gone, leaving me to stand there, alone, under the street light. I guess I should have been glad that I knew I hadn't been hearing voices, but my thoughts were coming too quickly to even consider my emotions. The only thing I could feel was the weight of my gained knowledge. A knowledge that fighting was an escape, but life with gangs was nothing more than another dead end for me.

I blinked and inhaled a sharp breath of cold air, realizing that I was just standing around. That was dangerous, especially at nighttime. I returned to my steady pace, heading for the protection of the trees. My thoughts grew quieter and quieter until I vanished into the forest, disappearing once again.

 


	7. Eli

_"They say bad things happen for a reason_  
 _But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding."_  - The Script.

* * *

Chapter Seven

Eli

_October 14th, 2003._

* * *

Time had blown by. It seemed like just the other day when Paul, Jacob, Nicole, and I were together. I clearly remembered the many times we had gone out together, explored the forest, joked around, fake-fought in the mud, and had a good time. In reality, just the other day, I was still all on my own, fishing in a river with nobody to talk to but myself. There wasn't even a voice in my head to keep me company.

I had grown a lot, even though I had been living in the vast expanse of wilderness. I wasn't short for my age anymore—I was just the opposite. I stood at five feet, nine inches. I was taller than nearly all thirteen-year-old girls on the reservation, if not all of them. My hair had grown out again. It tumbled down past my shoulders. My eyes had faded into a darker blue hue, and my skin was just as dark as the other Quileutes'. The years had also brought a more mature look to my face. I was probably unrecognizable, not only with the changes, but with all the time I had spent on my own.

Most of the changes were part of the aftermath of my lone lifestyle. I still hadn't returned to Sam. All I was doing was trying to ease my troubled mind, not avoid him. I was unsure if he understood that or not. Still, I knew I wasn't ready to face him. So, I stayed away, but when his back was turned, I had always taken the opportunity to go in and leave some sign that I was okay _—_ a few words scribbled in my curly handwriting on the table, the door left wide open _—_ things like that. I knew Sam noticed them when he started answering. It started one day when he was out at work; I had snuck in and found a reply carved into the table.

"I'm still with you. Even if you don't see me, I'm there."

Although I didn't quite understand the meaning, the words still brought a smile to my face. Just knowing that Sam was supporting me was enough to rid myself of the guilt, but not the pain.

I enjoyed the space, the time to think. But ever since the news of Paul's disappearance, I had considered going home. I fought the pull to go home _—_ I had to heal before I returned. It wasn't an easy choice, but it was necessary.

Sometimes, I told myself that Paul was okay. He was probably just lying low while the press pressured him for information. He was probably just keeping me safe.

The words were convincing, but deep down, I knew they were lies. Jared, one of Sam's younger friends, had temporarily dropped out of school due to a horrible case of mono. Apparently another young man, whom I guessed to be Paul due to his alarming absence, had followed. The article didn't give any more information other than a brief warning about the sickness itself.

Ever since I had snuck by Paul's house and found it empty, falling to sleep at night had become a challenge. My head shifted around in the dead leaves, wanting to feel the familiar comfort in the crook of his shoulder. My stomach was constantly knotted, making me unwilling to eat. I was constantly on alert, waiting as if Paul would suddenly appear through the bushes.

Not only that, but I couldn't tell him about empty eyes, running off into the woods, loony bins, gangs, families, fighting, or even knowing what it felt like to fall asleep hungry. Paul, who had always been the one I could rant with, wasn't there. Sometimes, I would talk as if he was there, but that started to feel really stupid really quickly, so I just bottled things up inside me, letting everything burn and boil. I let the compressed emotions change me _—_ I let them drive me forward. In my darkest hours, I let the emotions strengthen me. I was independent, and I was fighting, just as I'd learned to do. Just as I should have been.

Because I was fighting, I had the strength to keep going. I learned to never worry _—_ Sam's hints in his answers told me that Paul was completely fine and he was still there, even though I didn't realize it. Sam's words brought a sliver of hope that things would be normal again. But how could I come back, and how could I make things normal, after I had been away for so long? I couldn't answer that question myself, and so I continued to drift away from reality. I was slowly falling into a calm, empty world of my own. It might have driven me nuts, but I didn't mind at all.

The public trails created a gigantic maze through the reservation. They were peaceful and carefully created so that the winding paths never disturbed the quiet wildlife. I spent my free time out there, running. I was always running.

My pace was a steady, brisk jog. The damp ground was frosted a light brown, sprinkled with dusty grains of dirt that spat up in clouds in reaction to even the smallest pressure of a footfall. Air whisked effortlessly into my lungs with every breath. The air was untainted as if it was never exposed to anything outside of the natural forest. Breathing it in was as refreshing as ice water after hours of vigorous exercise.

The gentle breeze played with my hair. Its cool breath swirled about, causing the leaves in the trees to shiver. Every rush of air brought an autumn scent: fresh and crisp, like blooming apples. The air alone cleared my mind completely.

Eventually, the sun began to sink into the horizon, signaling sunset. Buttery rivers of warm sunlight spilled through the tangled webs of tree branches. The feeling of the setting sun on my face brought some warmth, but it couldn't chase away the chill. When the day transitioned into night, I knew I had to head for cover.

While I angled my body to turn, a sharp crackle of a snapping twig broke the silence. My foot thumped noisily on the ground, jolting me to a stop while causing dust to be spat into the air. My muscles tensed. I slowly scanned the forest, not noticing much, other than the splashes of brilliant fall color against the rugged landscape.

I almost shrugged it off and continued making my way toward the edge of the forest. I would have done just that, when suddenly I caught a luster of grey against the bright autumn colors. I blinked, trying to get a clearer view of what the color belonged to, but I only saw a green puff of what appeared to be a sprouting bush was where the grey thing was a moment ago.

_Maybe it was a wild animal of some sort,_ I thought to myself. Caution caused adrenaline to course through my veins. I swallowed, slowly turning around. Every kid in the tribe was taught to never make any sudden movements when under a possible threat of a vicious animal.

Whatever the thing was, I thought my turn had startled it. My only warning was the clicking sound of snapping teeth before I faced a blur of blue-grey fur and caught a flash of bared, white fangs.

My heartbeat exploded into a frenzied rhythm, going crazy inside my chest. The impact blasted me back against the ground; the strong weight of my attacker pinned me down at the chest. Tears sprang in my eyes in reaction to the spicy sting of dirt that puffed into the air. My arm reached out, and my fingers combed across the trail until they bumped something rough and damp _—_ a broken tree branch. Instantly, I curled my fingers tightly around the branch and pulled it to me.

I sucked a breath through my teeth, firmly raising my pathetic weapon. Energy rolled through me while I prepared myself to strike, but I stopped myself, because now that the cloud of dust cleared, I didn't see the vicious stare of a hungry predator. Instead, I was looking back into two wide, caramel eyes.

The branch tumbled out of my open fingers, clattering against a rock. I relaxed while staring at the playful expression of the large dog that hovered over me. Its perked ears captured my eye; they refused to flop but were far from straight, like some sort of in-between.

"Here, Amber!"

I tensed, suddenly aware that there was another presence. The dog didn't even seem to notice, though. With a tiny huff, it bounded away from me, allowing me to stand and brush myself off. Leaves were caught in my hair and dirt was stubbornly sticking to my running shorts. I was too tense to look up, knowing that whoever owned the dog would probably think I was a homeless person. When I was in defense mode, if anybody did try to come too close, they would be losing a tooth. Or two.

"Need some help there?"

I jumped, taken off guard when the voice hit my ears. I tensed even more, and my mind scrambled. The tone was familiar somehow. My head snapped up, and my eyes narrowed at the sight of the boy in front of me.

The boy's features were mostly Quileute, tall and toned, finished off with the traditional tan and mildly tamed black hair. His bangs occasionally flopped over eyes that matched the color of dark chocolate; the eyes that gave finished off his tribal-like appearance. With a toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile, this was the kind of boy who could melt even the toughest girl.

It was a good thing his appearance distracted the eyes. Nobody really ever noticed how his walk was somewhat awkward. The boy's left leg was just a fraction of a second out of rhythm, causing him to sway slightly with every step. It was like he was going around with only one shoe on. Still, I would've never noticed if I wasn't staring, or if I hadn't been around him so much.

His name was Elijah Clearwater _—_ he was a distant relative of the Clearwater family. He went to the tribal school, like any other Quileute living on the reservation. Elijah was nothing more than a classmate. At least, that was what I told myself. Translation: nothing was going on between us, and I wasn't even sure if he noticed me. But I had my eye on him.

It took me a moment to come back to reality and realize he spoke to me. I blinked, gathering myself back up again. "I'm fine," I insisted quickly.

He flashed one of his heart-stopping smiles. His hand reached out toward my own. "Elijah Clearwater."

The color faded out of my face. Did I really look so unrecognizable that he didn't know who I was? My jaw clenched when I gazed back into his eyes. I slowly wrapped my fingers around his and shook his hand once. I couldn't help but notice the warmth of his hand and the confidence in his grip. My fingers trembled when I quickly dropped his hand.

He searched my expression, his eyes narrowed with what seemed like suspicion. Did he think I was weird? Did I look bad? Well, living in the woods wouldn't make me look all that great, but still. My heart thumped while I watched his expression, trying my best to mask my panic.

After a few minutes of silence, Elijah flashed a smile bright enough to blind me. "Well, if it isn't the famous Jordan Uley! So glad to see you aren't dead like the rumors say." His eyes scanned my face when I continued to stand there stiffly, silent. "Don't you look like you've been busy. What  _have_  you been doing anyway?" Elijah asked, breaking through the silence with a smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. He raised an eyebrow in question, most likely for effect.

I wanted to protect myself; to throw myself forward and knock Elijah's teeth right out of his jaw; to eliminate the threat that his questions caused. But, Elijah's gaze had pinned me, getting rid of that plan without a problem. By accident, even. Mentally, I was giving myself a pep talk to avoid doing something that would cause harm to his beautiful face.

"I'm far from famous," I answered smoothly, focused on keeping my breathing even. "And I've been…around. I think it'd be more interesting to know why the  _famous_ Elijah Clearwater would be wandering in the woods?"

His smirk morphed into a grin. "Interesting, huh?" Elijah paused. He turned and waved a hand behind him in the direction that the dog had disappeared. "Just a little chore. Nothing special." He shrugged, and then looked at me directly again. "You can call me Eli."

Once again, his gaze set me into another defensive mode. I nodded, casually making some space between us. "Eli. Got it." The use of the name seemed to ease the awkward feeling while I allowed some form of a smile to play on my lips. He returned the smile but didn't press me further.

Still smiling, he leaned against a tree, one hand spread out against the bark. His bangs flopped over his eyes and the muscles in his right arm flexed at the movement. I stared for a moment before turning to look at his face. I spoke a little too quickly, still not having collected myself. "So, just a chore?"

"Pretty much."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Nobody wanders in the woods for no reason."

"Maybe I just wanted to come out looking to see where this apparently crazy girl went. Nobody runs away for no reason, after all." He lifted his left eyebrow. His lips twitched.

"Was that a joke?"

"Possibly."

"You're kinda stubborn."

"You're kinda cute."

The words were blunt _,_ completely straightforward, and not the least bit hesitant. My heart hammered in my ribs, soaring sky high. I blinked, taking another minute to gather my thoughts. "I . . .  _what_?"

Eli moved forward again, forcing me to stare at him. He smiled, looking rather cute himself. It didn't help that he was only inches away. His words came out slowly when he explained, "I was planning on going biking on Friday. I don't know any girl tough enough to stay out in the forest like this for so long and live without freaking out, and I like that. You've got my attention, and I think you're kinda cute, but I wanna know more. You should come along."

I was torn between the feelings of suspicion and pure excitement. I had to shake my head in order not to stare. I breathed in slowly and collected my scattered thoughts before I looked at him."Any other reason?"

"You've been gone for a while, and you can't stay away forever. It'd be really cool if you came back. . . It couldn't hurt, right?"

I swallowed back the thick lump in my throat and met his eyes. I managed to smile and nod my head. "I'm in."

His eyes brightened slightly, as if he was just as happy as I was. "Awesome." He looked over his shoulder, tilting his head as he listened into the silent woods. I listened, too, until I made out the faint combination of anxious barks and howls.

"Well, I gotta run. See you in school, hopefully." Eli flashed another grin and then turned, jogging back along the trail.

I smiled after him, standing there until I managed to slow my spinning mind. What the hell had just happened? Elijah Clearwater, the boy who had the whole school in his hands just with his charm and smile, just asked me on a date? Or was there more to it? Why me?

Mulling it over, I started to work my way home, making the decision in a snap second. This couldn't be a trick, even though it had happened so fast. He probably was in a hurry, and . . . and so he had to rush to ask. Yeah, that seemed logical.

My pace quickened, powered by the rush of my heart. I couldn't help thinking that maybe everything wasn't going to be so tough anymore after all, and that the past years of my life were just a few bumps and crashes in the road.

If only everything could ever be so simple.

 


	8. Gathered Pride

_"Tonight_  
 _It's late, too late_  
 _To chase the rainbow that you're after_  
 _I'd like to find a compromise_  
 _And place it in your hands_  
 _My eyes are blind, my ears can't hear_  
 _And I cannot find the time."_  - Elton John.

* * *

Chapter Eight

Gathered Pride

_October 15th, 2003._

* * *

The forest was dark, wet, and completely silent. The trees hunched under the impact of the wind, while the other vegetation rotted away under the endless showers. An eerie chill hung over my head.

Sam's house stood a short distance in front of me. It was strong and sturdy, colored with careful strokes of white paint with windows that were tinted black. Steam and smoke curled into the air from the chimney, hanging low over the roof. A tiny pang grew in the pit of my stomach as I stood away from it, feeling out of place. I was hidden, blending in with the shadows.

I paused as doubt rolled through my mind.  _Would Sam want me back? Or had my last action got to his last nerve?_ I thought of Paul, beaten and shaken because of me.  _What if Paul didn't want to see me anymore? What then?_

The rain continued to swoop down with the winds, soaking through my skin. The chill was clearing my mind, bringing out every possibility. I didn't know exactly how long I stood there, contemplating what to do. It could have been seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours. But eventually, I settled on one simple conclusion.

There was only one way to find out.

My feet moved without thought, taking me up the steps and toward the door. My hands curled inward. My palms started to sweat. I took another breath, but the air felt too thick in my throat. I coughed and breathed out slowly. The world was spinning, my breathing matching the gallop of my heartbeat. I waited until my heart was calm before raising my fist. I tapped it against the door a few times, and then forced myself to plant my feet down against the porch. I had come this far already—there was no turning back.

The door opened. It was only cracked at first, just enough to allow a familiar deep voice to be heard. When he spoke in his low, wary tone, my body stilled.

"Who's there?" Sam asked. The dark shape of his mouth was the only thing visible through the door, but the demanding tone got his point across.

I gathered my pride and cleared my voice, standing straighter. I took another breath, letting the icy clarity fill my head again. "Can I come in, Daddy?" I asked in a casual tone, as if I had only been gone for a few hours. It was better to approach carefully than to throw my return at him all at once.

A second passed. Then another. And another. Just when it seemed that Sam wasn't going to react at all, the door flew open.

Warm arms wrapped around me tightly, nearly leaving me breathless. I smiled against the fabric of his shirt, letting my arms, too small to wrap around him, return the hug. Sam's cheek pressed against the top of my head. His free hand smoothed out the tangles of my hair while his body swayed gently. He rocked me back and forth slightly, saying nothing. It took a few minutes for Sam to find his voice.

"Jordan," he whispered quietly to me, seeming to be at a loss for words. My smile widened. I didn't mind if he didn't have anything to say. He didn't have to say anything.

Sam continued to hold me for a little while longer until the questions unfurled. He hurried around the kitchen and threw things together, letting me eat a variety of charred meals he had cooked. Sam waited until I was finished, and then he instantly started to ask me about everything that had happened. I told him about being hungry and sleeping inside of the winds and running from people and fading away into the shadows. I left out the part about Eli, the reason why I had returned.

Sam listened without a single comment, watching me closely. Even though his eyes were sunken and the hurt was clear in his eyes, he had acted as if what I did was okay. It was almost like he understood why, and he didn't care about the side effects of my decision. He understood, and I would always remember that I could rely on that.

 


	9. It's a Date

_"My first kiss went a little like this."_  - 30H3.

* * *

Chapter Nine

It's a Date

_October 20th, 2003._

* * *

"Jordaaaaaaaaaaan! I need some fooooooooood!"

My hands balled into fists as Nicole's whiny scream echoed down the hall. As my grip tightened, toothpaste spat all over my hand. I sighed and scrubbed it off, mumbling under my breath about Nicole and her obnoxious demands. Yeah, I was home again. Yeah, I was her little sister again. But no, that didn't mean she could boss me around all the time.

"No! You have arms for a reason. Use them!" I huffed and looked in the mirror at my ruffled, straight-out-of-bed appearance before adding under my breath, "For once."

Shortly after the words had left my mouth, Nicole appeared at the bathroom door. She was completely Barbie-dolled: Nicole's icy blue eyes were outlined with makeup, her lashes were curled, and her hair was waved and slightly uneven, although it still shone when it caught the light of the bathroom. Her outfit looked as if she had spent hours playing dress-up to put it together; everything went together perfectly.

Almost  _too_ perfectly. I shook my head, hoping that when I turned another year older, I wouldn't become all girly like her. While assessing her picky appearance, I missed the glare in her eyes.

"What's the occasion?" I asked harmlessly, allowing a small bit of sarcasm to enter my tone.

Nicole lifted a small book. It was a notebook with my name scrawled across the front. "Just thought I might get rid of this." She flipped the page open and her eyes scanned the words. "It's like a diary, and there's nothing interesting in it. B-o-r-i-n-g."

"Hey! GIVE IT BACK!" My fingers released the tube of toothpaste when I hurled myself at her. I swiped my hand at the book that was trapped in her grip.

Nicole's lips formed a smirk. She snapped the book shut before she turned and dashed down the hall. "Will you make me my breakfast  _now_?" she called while rounding the corner.

I sprinted after her, hopping over random household items that were strewn across the floor. " _No_! Get it yourself!"

"Then I guess you don't really want it that much!" She looked over her shoulder and winked before she blew a kiss at me and darted into the kitchen.

I groaned and gritted my teeth together. My pace slowed down to a walk. For this one, I was going to get her back good. It seemed as if she had been picking on me since the hour I had returned. Why? I wasn't sure. I had grown taller than her, despite the one-year age difference between us. Our skin tone had stayed the same. The only real differences were in our eyes and hair: my eyes were dark blue, where as Nicole's were an icy color. My hair was effortlessly straight, while her hair took on more waves. I was starting to think she was jealous.

Jealous or not, I would still get her back for this.

I was too deep in thought to realize Sam had stepped out of the kitchen to block my way. He stood between Nicole and me with his arms folded tightly to his chest. My breath was pushed out of me in an awkward "oof" when I slammed into his chest.

Sam's sure hand reached out slowly to steady me. "You all right?"

"Yeah. . ." I allowed my voice to trail off. I frowned and looked up at him, blinking in an innocent manner. "Daddy, I really didn't mean to make Nicole mad like that, promise."

"It's okay, honey," Sam reassured me in a soothing tone. He lifted his hands and placed the diary firmly in my palms. He shot a warning look in Nicole's direction before his attention focused on me once more. "Let's get you some breakfast. You seem a little shaky."

My shoulders relaxed when I felt the spiral book in my hands. I fought back a smile until Sam's back was turned and he had disappeared in the kitchen. I made sure to flash a smug smile at Nicole. She replied with a huff and stomped upstairs, most likely to do her hair for the fifth time today.

Content, I spun on my heel and slipped into the kitchen. Sam was standing near the counter, his eyes focused. His lips moved while he spoke softly to himself. He was pouring cereal into a bowl, and one of his hands wrapped around a half-gallon of milk. I couldn't help but stare at the muscles of his arms and the black tattoo on his shoulder.

The tattoo was something I had noticed earlier in the week. I was used to Sam being tall and muscled, but I had to admit that when I first noticed the bold black tattoo, I had stared a little. The tattoo wasn't intimidating, but its shape—multiple slimmed faces of what seemed to be dogs, all in black ink—was unsettling. I tried my best not to stare now as he worked. My eyes strained to observe the focus in his expression instead.

"Aren't you little Miss Mysterious today," Sam mused, so softly it seemed like he was still talking to himself.

I raised an eyebrow and propped my elbows on the table before I leaned my chin on my palms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam smiled to himself. His dark eyes darted to me before they settled back down onto the cereal while he dropped in bits of blueberries. "You've been dead silent all week, but now you seem pretty . . . alert. Nicole woke you up, did she?"

"No." I shook my head, knowing full well that Sam was probing me. He might not have been straight-out rude about trying to get answers out of me, but his curiosity wasn't hidden. I was going out with Eli tonight and part of his sixth "daddy" sense had picked up on that. I didn't want Sam to find out and freak, but I couldn't hide it forever. While he was trying to pry something out of me seemed like a good time to bring up the subject.

I let out a sharp breath and spoke casually. "Daddy, I'm going out tonight."

Sam cocked an eyebrow and kept his eyes down on the cereal. "Paul is finally coming out of his shell?"

"No, Daddy. I mean with a boy from school."

Sam was silent. His body froze, other than his hand. His fingers jerked open and the spoon in his hand clattered to the ground. He whipped around, his hands braced on the counter. His chocolate brown eyes were as big as saucers. "You mean . . . a date?"

My lips curled upward slightly in response while my fingers drummed against the top of the counter. "Do you count biking as a date?"

"Are you gonna be alone?" Sam asked, ignoring my question.

I nodded once. "Yeah."

"Then it  _is_  a date!" Sam groaned and slapped his hands on his head. He tugged at his short hair. "Why?!"

I dropped my arms to the table, my eyebrows scrunching in confusion. Someone normal probably would be sprinting for the door in response to the boom of his voice and heat that seemed to seep out of him. I watched him steadily without even flinching when he faced me. His jaw was set and his irises were smoldering black fire.

"Why not?" I asked smoothly, hoping to calm him down. "Nothing really horrible, is it?"

Sam's nostrils flared when he let out a breath. The steam gradually faded from his expression. For a few long moments, there was only silence between us. After what seemed like hours in a lockdown of tense stares, Sam cleared his throat. His tone softened. "Just . . . be safe, okay, honey?"

I raised a questioning eyebrow. "Sam, I'm only thirteen."

"Not yet."

"Close enough, but still."

"Too soon?"

I allowed some form of a smile to rise on my lips. "Just a little."

Sam was silent for a moment. He let the awkward silence hang between us for a moment longer, his eyes cast out the window as if he was distracted. I continued to watch him, trying not to laugh.

Eventually, Sam cleared his throat. "Well . . . let's get you girls to school, okay?" He paused, sucking in a deep breath and relaxing his quivering hands. "And if you aren't home by seven, I'll be out with my shotgun, fully loaded. That boy better be fast."

I grinned at Sam's threat, feeling any trace of the tension melt away. "Okay!"

With that, I hurried toward the door, my stomach filled with butterflies while my breakfast lay forgotten on the counter.

()()()

That afternoon couldn't have come faster. I caught Eli's glances, followed by warm smiles, in the hallways, smiling slightly at the winks and "accidental" run-ins that had made my week fly by. Other than the 'are you stupid' looks Jacob and Nicole kept giving me, everything was going great. I didn't need their approval to be happy. I had liked Eli for a while, and now he seemed to be returning the feeling. What was so bad about that?

The thought was always pushed away, no matter how frequently it had popped into my mind. My only concern was keeping myself calm. My stomach was still knotted, as it had been all week while the day of our date crawled closer and closer. It took forever for that final five minutes of my last class to pass. I tapped my pencil and chewed on my lip until I thought I might explode with anticipation. Then, finally, the bell rang and I shot out of room before anybody else had even stood up.

I fumbled through my locker, humming softly to myself. Humming had grown to be a habit, one that distracted my mind but kept it moving at the same time. I hummed and muttered softly while I searched for my homework. I couldn't find it. But then again, it was just a weekend. I wouldn't even remember to do it, anyway. After giving up, I lifted my gaze and pushed the door shut with a  _clang_.

And there he stood.

Eli was leaning against the pale locker, looking both casual and cute at the same time. His bangs flopped over his forehead, glimmering with droplets of rain. He showed his white teeth in a grin when I looked like I had acknowledged him.

"Hey, hot stuff," he greeted, giving me a playful wink.

I laughed and shook my head him, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "How's it going?"

Eyes bright with amusement, Eli slung an arm over my shoulder and guided me toward the exit almost impatiently. "Great, now that you're goin' home with me."

Heat rose in my face as I wrapped an arm around him. Our touching bodies attracted the stares of our classmates. When I glanced around, I noticed the faces of the other kids in my grade turn blank as if they were simply staring off into space, or trying to act like they weren't staring, before they shuffled over to a friend and starting to whisper.

"Jealousy is awfully contagious, don't ya think?" Eli muttered in my ear. He drew my attention only to him when he talked, just with the smooth way he spoke. No hesitating, no stumbling, just a deep flow of sound; it was almost enchanting.

"Agreed," I murmured back. "Looks like I got some competition, huh?" My gaze darted to a girl who was staring at us while we headed for the door. Her hair was as dull black and dead as the chipping lockers behind her, and her murky brown eyes didn't flinch when I met her stare. She kept looking at me with wide eyes, her two front teeth poking out over her bottom lip.

"Chipmunk?" Eli continued to walk but angled his head the give a quick glance at the creepy girl behind us. I didn't catch the light of anger in his eyes, but it was there. A moment later, he chuckled. "Nah, I think I'm good with what I got." His grip tightened slightly, pulling me closer to his side when the pressure of all the stares lifted. I couldn't help but smile.

We stepped quickly up the steps together in rhythm. I reached forward to shove open the wide doors, raising an eyebrow and trying to keep my lips from forming a smile. The twitching movement they made must have given that away, though, because Eli laughed. I couldn't help but grin when he did. I slid back a step away from him and fearlessly slipped my fingers into his. He winked at me again and carefully led me down the sidewalk, away from the school.

Rain poured from the sky, partnered with the late October chill. I shivered while Eli and I walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, slick with sheets of rain that rushed down the hill and crashed into our feet. The wind screamed in our faces, drowning out the drone of engines on the road. It was the typical gorgeous weather of the reservation.

I shivered violently and pulled my sweatshirt tighter around me. I was regretting not wearing a coat, but if we were just going to go out and get all muddy, what was the point in wearing it? My fingers curled into my sweatshirt to fight off the cold while I struggled to come up with a good reason.

Eli caught on quickly. He frowned and his mouth moved. The words were lost in the currents of wind, though, and I tilted my head, mouthing for him to repeat himself. He shook his head and lifted a free hand, pushing his hood back and taking a fluffy hat from his head. With a smile, he dropped it on my freezing hand and slipped his hood back up, hiding his face away.

Another smile spread across my face in response to his offer. My skin felt tight with the cold and ached with my smile, but I couldn't stop myself. For a second, I dropped his hand to slip the puffy hat over my ears and on top of my head. The hat instantly blocked out the persistent cold.

"Thanks," I murmured to Eli. I reached up and drew the strings from his sweatshirt out, watching it shrink around his face. With a laugh, I tied the strings in a bow and found his hand again. I could almost picture his smile when he moved closer to me and guided me down the path toward his home.

After that, we continued deeper into the Quileute reservation, lost in hushed murmurs and the warmth passing between us, until we reached his house and started to pad along the slippery driveway. The strength in his grip and my careful footsteps were the only things that kept me from falling.

Eli's house was just like most of those on the reservation, if not a little fancier. A wall of tightly packed wood, a black, rough rooftop, and finished off with tinted glass windows. Well, I thought they were tinted. But when I leaned close, I thought I could see a tiny blotch of color.

Suddenly, the window was thrown open and a two hands shot out.

"Boo!"

I planted my feet against the slick ground. Eli rolled his eyes and slid his hands to rest on my arms, relaxed as if this were just everyday business. I caught movement in the corner of my eye, blurred into the background. Turning my head, I watched as a head popped out of the window. "Hey, guys!"

I continued to stare, starting to grow suspicious, when a boy, probably around ten, rolled headfirst out the window. The kid stood, mud staining the knees of his jeans and edges of his t-shirt. He mumbled and brushed his hands on his jeans, and he jogged up to Eli and me, grinning the whole way.

"What, suddenly shy?" The kid stared at Eli when he spoke, but his eyes darted to me as if he expected an instant introduction. I didn't comment or move, but watched Eli's set jaw move while he spoke.

"You were supposed to have gone home yesterday, Seth," he muttered in something that sounded close to a growl. "Why are you still here?"

I watched the boy's response, expecting him to cower back and run into the house. He simply kept grinning anyway, answering in the same cheerful tone with no show of fear. "To see your girly-friend! Duh!" The boy, whom Eli had called Seth, set two warm brown eyes on me. "Hi!"

The mood radiating off him was completely impossible to avoid. I returned his smile, hoping I wasn't upsetting Eli by doing so. "Hey there." My eyes darted to Eli, evaluating the hard expression on his face.

Eli sighed. "This is my cousin, Seth. You know, Seth Clearwater? He's family to Harry, Sue, and Leah. Pretty sure your dad knows them." He reached back to rub the back of his neck. "Uh . . . yeah. Seth, Jordan. Jordan, Seth."

"Jordan!" Seth grabbed my hand and shook it briefly. I rolled my shoulder and rubbed my arm, hoping that he hadn't popped it out of place. "It's so awesome that I get to meet you! I haven't heard much, but you sound so cool!"

I smiled slightly, my gaze set on Seth's bright expression. "Yeah, I guess I could be. Thanks."

"So, is it true that you really ran away?"

"Yeah, I did leave. But I didn't really run away, I was just looking for—"

"A gang?" Seth's eyes widened.

"No, I wasn't looking for a gang. I was looking for my h—"

"So it's not true that you fought with the gangs? I've heard that they're rebelling all around! Oh, it's horrible! The gangs and stuff are piling up and starting to go back against the Elders! But the officials seem to have it under control. I mean, it can't—"

I was relieved that Eli cut Seth's rambling off with a huff of annoyance. "How 'bout we go biking now?  _Before_  we drown?"

"Yeah!" Seth's enthusiastic cheer blocked out my reply.

Eli caught my amused smile, but he still didn't seem to be as enthusiastic. He ground his teeth together and shook his head at Seth. "No, Seth. You can't come."

Seth stared at Eli as if he had just ruined his life. " _What_? Why not?"

Eli's jaw worked. He spoke in a clipped, sharp tone. "Because  _I_  said so and  _I_  am in charge. Go inside, Seth."

Seth's shoulders slumped. He glanced at me for a moment and flashed a smile, but the enthusiasm was drained from his expression. He sulked back inside, leaving Eli and me alone.

Eli didn't say anything else. He only led me out to the bikes, the stormy expression on his face not relaxing until much later.

After three rollouts into the mud, four crashes, and five long races, night fell down upon us, and Eli offered to walk me home. I accepted his offer, of course. So, we had slowly made our way down the abandoned dirt road, covered head to toe with mud. Sam's house wasn't far away—it was just a twenty-minute walk, with shortcuts. Eli and I climbed up the porch, following the soft glow of a light by the door.

He stopped at the top of the doorstep, running a hand through his hair and turning to look at me. "Well…I, uh, should get going. You know, just because Sam probably wants to shoot me by now."

"How'd you know he was gonna do that?" I faked a disappointed pout. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

Eli stared at me, bewildered. "You're . . . you're kidding, right?"

I laughed once and shook my head. "Of course I'm kidding. Yeah, you probably should though, just in case. Thanks for inviting me, Eli, it was awesome."

"Yeah, I don't know how many girls would willingly get that muddy in front of a guy." His eyes darted down to my mud-splattered arms and a smirk played on his lips.

"Guess I'm special, then?"

Eli sighed lightly, his gaze suddenly intense. "Jordan Uley, you are very special."

I was just about to reply to him when I noticed something—Eli's face was angled slightly, leaning toward mine. I stared at him, only noticing his dark eyes while they had closed. My heart pounded as I wasted a split second trying to think about what was happening. What if Nicole was watching? Or Sam? What if they saw? Would they be mad? Or would they be happy? What if . . . what if. . .

 _Screw it_ , I thought to myself. The next thing I knew, my eyes fell shut and I was leaning up slightly until I felt his lips touch mine. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to make heat rise to my face. My stomach did a little flip. Eli let out a relieved sigh and pulled his face away, bringing me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling a slight buzz that had suddenly spread through my body.

"Call me tomorrow, will you?" he murmured hurriedly when the front door started to creak open.

"No problem." I smiled at him.

Eli nodded his head and waved his hand. "I'll be expecting it." He turned and hopped off the porch, yanking his hood up before he jogged into the shadows.

After he was gone and my thoughts had slowed, I slipped inside the house. Sam was leaning in the doorway expectantly, his arms folded over his chest while he stared at me with a guilt-trip worthy expression. We both just stood there, staring at each other, until Sam's eyes traveled up to my head. I reached up absentmindedly, feeling the fuzzy hat still tucked over my ears. For a second, I almost considered running back to Eli, letting him know he had forgotten his hat, but I couldn't find the words. Or remember how to move.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, Sam had cleared his throat and spoke. "So, you had a good time?" The question seemed to have tons of emotions locked behind it, but I wasn't going to make this complicated.

"Yeah I had a great time," I answered simply.

Sam's throat moved when he gulped. His eyes looked almost watery. He nodded and smiled at me, but his attempt at a smile looked horribly faked. "Good for you, honey. I'm . . . happy for you. You probably should go upstairs and shower before you head off t-to b—"

I raised my hands when he started to stutter, cutting Sam off. "Sam. What's wrong?"

He paused, staring at me. I arched an eyebrow. Obviously, Sam was bothered by something, whether he told me or not. He could use a couple acting classes.

"Nothing, I promise. Just go on to bed and I'll . . . talk to you in the morning." He angled his back toward me, heading into the kitchen, and raked his shaking fingers through his black hair. Clearly, he wasn't going to tell me what was wrong. I took the hint.

Protective. Sam was being protective in an overemotional way. There was nothing much to do about a person who struggled with their emotions, especially when that person was your dad. I frowned, holding back my concern. I shrugged and once again was filled with the same post-kiss ecstasy. The memory brought a spark of giddiness into me. I almost skipped up the stairs when the bubbly feeling inside me took over.

Thirty minutes later, I was pulling the covers over my green apple scented, mud-free body. I was facing the window while images of the day rolled through my mind.

At one point, I gently touched my lips, trying to keep the smile off my face. There was no real reason not to. But, instead of spending the night away thinking about him—which I probably would have—I lay my head on his hat and tumbled into dreamless sleep.


	10. Reality Check

[ **Warning** : This chapter contains brief violence that some readers may not be comfortable with.]

_"But there's a side to you_  
 _That I never knew, never knew._  
 _All the things you'd say_  
 _They were never true, never true."_  - Adele.

* * *

Chapter Ten

Reality Check

_April 18th, 2004_.

* * *

_Tap…drip…snore…tap…_

The familiar sounds of my history class seemed to cause the hands of the clock to drag even slower. I let out a short breath, tearing my eyes away to watch the rain drip down the window. I stared blankly at the crystal droplets, only to be distracted again, this time by the rumbling snores in the back of the room.

I grimaced when the sound of the snores spilled into my ears. I shifted in my seat to turn back and assess the scene. There were two half-asleep boys, each hunched over their papers, mouths wide open in a blank, thoughtless expression. I didn't know the names of either of them, but who could blame me? Nearly everyone on the reservation shared the same native features. It was hard to tell the difference between one person and another. However, there was a third boy in the back that did seem familiar. I think he went by Quil. I recognized him by his buzz cut; most boys wore their hair long, so he stood out from the rest. If not for his choice of style, I would have recognized him as a kid that Jacob hung out with. When Nicole wasn't around, at least.

The silence was shattered when the snappy, ancient substitute teacher announced that she was going to be calling out random names to read what they had for notes. I was pretty sure the whole thing was directed at the sleeping guys, but the teacher set her beady eyes on me long enough that I figured I would be one of the "random students" along with them. I'd earned a bad reputation around here, and lately, it seemed as if everyone knew about me just because of my boyfriend. Muttering, I unfolded my arms and snatched up my pencil, returning to my notes and flimsy textbook. The thing was probably just as old as the freaking teacher.

All this crap about how Quileute ancestors'  _"_ veins were filled with magic," and, "they were the only living creature powerful enough to fight off the world's unknown most dangerous predator" didn't make much sense to me. Something in the back of my mind triggered anxious shudders in response to some of the descriptions in the book. Maybe that was why I'd gotten distracted in the first place, but it wasn't clear what exactly was causing my reaction.

I needed to focus. If we didn't learn this, we'd all fail this year and end up with a crappy job, if anything at all. Ending up like the cranky substitute wasn't exactly on my to-do list, so I set to work, scribbling phrases on my paper. All anybody had to do was take the main ideas and change the words around. It worked like a charm, especially when notes were allowed on tests.

My hand started to flow across the paper while I turned thoughts into markings, my pencil making faint squeaks when it slid across the smooth, wooden desk.

_Thousands of years ago, before most records were even recorded, Eli was. . ._

I frowned, moving my fingers to bring my eraser to my paper and rub off the interruption before continuing.

_Until one night, three women were declared missing. This was the start to the interesting part of our history, a twist in the story. After hearing the news, Quileute warriors, also known as Eli. . ._

Once again, I scribbled off the name and continued to write, fingers clenching around my pencil while I willed myself to focus. I had ignored the note on the blackboard making it clear that copying directly from the book would drop the grade.  _Something_  was better than nothing, after all.

_The Quileutes prospered, with fish to fill hungry stomachs and strong children born from their women. They pulled great whales from the sea, celebrating victories, not wasting a drop of what they owned, and for generations, they were content. However, jealousy rose among the Quileute's neighbors, and many had tried to take their lands by force, but the Spirit Warriors of the tribe used their magic to protect what was theirs. It came upon a time that the last of the Great Spirit Chiefs, Taha Aki, was betrayed by the Spirit Warrior, Utlapa. After Utlapa had stolen Taha Aki's body and used it to usurp Taha Aki's place among the tribe, the spirit of Taha Aki was in agony, having spent too long apart from his body. A predatory animal agreed to allow Taha Aki to share its body, and eventually, an enraged Taha Aki resumed a human form, strengthened by the animal, and slew Utlapa. After finding himself able to transform between man and an animal form, Taha Aki did not age and fathered many sons who shared his abilities. The sons of the tribe who were able to shift forms, known as Eli's—_

My writing ended there. The swelling frustration exploded inside me, causing my pencil to snap from the strain of my clenched hand. I blinked, staring at the split wood, wondering why I was overreacting so much over my mistakes. I would be thirteen next month; I needed to keep my cool.

Leaning over, I swiftly grabbed a stray pencil from the floor. My eyes darted around, meeting the gaze of classmates who were, or had been for God knows how long, staring at me. They saw me looking in their direction and quickly averted their eyes, trying to make their gazes less obvious.

"Take a picture. Lasts longer." My voice was a mutter, quiet enough to stay out of the range of the teacher but loud enough that I was sure my little audience could hear.

I shook my head and almost started to write again, but it seemed pretty useless now. What was the point if I couldn't even focus in the first place? I jabbed my eraser into my paper and removed the last sentence. Afterward, I paused and drew a little heart over the grey splotch where Eli's name had been a moment earlier. I shuddered at the cheesiness, groaning quietly at my stupidity.

There was no way I could do this. My mind was in a hundred places, making it impossible to focus. I shoved my desk to the side as I stood, and then stared at it for a moment. Was running in the woods with Eli making me stronger?

Ugh. Thinking of him.  _Again._

I hurried up to the substitute, muttering nonsense under my breath. I grabbed a pass off the wall and held it in front of her. She acted as if I wasn't there and continued to stare down the long line of her nose for a moment, her eyes scanning the pages beneath her. I waved the pass in her face, irritated by her ignorance. Her head craned up slowly. She gave me a nasty glare before she nodded. I spun on my heels and nearly sprinted out of the room, ignoring the zombie-like stares of my curious classmates.

The halls were empty, thankfully. Taking in thick breaths of air, I rounded the corners while I weaved my way toward the bathroom. A splash of cool water on my boiling skin sounded good right about now.

When I neared the bathroom, I heard the faint sound of hushed murmurs in the hall. My feet froze for a moment before speeding up. I could just see one girl on the corner, pressed against the wall.

Her feminine body, one any young, aspiring supermodel would die for, was pressed up against something on the wall. Dark skin was in high contrast against the pale wall, the waves of her silky black hair falling down her back perfectly. She wore a frilly cream-colored shirt that made me gag, finishing off the style with golden hoop earrings. She appeared to belong in big cities, not our homey little reservation.

When I got closer, I could make out the shape of her long, curled lashes and splashes of pink on her cheeks. Her mouth had the same pink hue, but the lips that captured hers hid most of it. My back pressed against the wall while I edged closer. I was curious to see who she was sucking face with, but felt like I might puke at the same time.

I didn't have to be a super genius to recognize the identity of the girl. She was Beth Anderson, Sam's girlfriend Leah Clearwater's tag-a-long. She carried herself around like she was a freaking gift from above, and the slutty wannabees made up her crew. Leah was supposed to be the prettiest girl on our whole reservation, and with Leah as her hero and apparently also her mentally "adopted sister," Beth thought she was fit to be a tie as far as Leah's beauty went. Personally, I thought Beth was more of Leah's stunt double; she was all about dramatics.

My shoulder bumped the corner when I turned for the bathroom, pretending to be oblivious. But my eyes set on the boy backed into the wall with Beth's perfect nails on his shoulders. While my gaze traveled to his face, my foot squeaked on the floor. Beth's eyelids snapped open and she turned to me, her chocolate brown gaze lit with fear until they settled on me. I ignored her glare. My stare was focused on Eli and the pink lip-gloss staining his mouth.

"I thought you said we'd have no witnesses." Beth gave me the cold shoulder while she asked Eli in her bell-like voice. Completely rehearsed.

"Didn't know. . ." Eli trailed off, raising an arm to wipe the gloss from his lips. He stared back at me and shrugged. No apology, no freak out. Just a shrug.

"What the  _hell_  is going on?" I demanded in a shaky voice. My fingers clenched and unclenched, my throat swelling thick. "What did she do to you, Eli?" I saw red while I glared at Beth, raising my hands to break her face.

Beth simply laughed, as if she was oblivious to my threats, shaking her head slowly. She ignored me once more. "I'll see you later, baby. Look forward to it; the second time is  _always_ the best." She winked and flipped her hair over her shoulder, strutting back around the corner. Lucky for her, my shock was so thick that I didn't have time to put a fist in her mouth.

I stood in stunned silence as the emotions collected in my chest. Eli simply stared where Beth had been a moment before, a stupid grin on his face. After a moment, he dropped his gaze to me. He even had the balls to talk. "What do you want?" His voice was slow, almost bored.

His tone was cool and casual, like he was talking to an acquaintance. That caused my fingers to shake and heat to wash through my body. Before I could stop myself, my hand caught Eli's throat and my fingers pressed in, blocking his airways.

"You were sucking faces with that slut  _behind my back_!"

Eli's jaw clenched, his throat moving while he swallowed. He ripped my fingers off and shoved me back, stepping forward to stand face to face with me again. I recognized the same fury on his face as I'd seen when he was ticked at Seth, only this was at a much higher magnitude. "Reality check: she's hot as hell. A complete upgrade."

The words struck me like a punch in the gut. I didn't flinch; I held his gaze steadily. "Have you gone  _mad_?"

"No. You're the one that would be mad to think I would like you." He shifted a foot back, shrugging his hands into his pockets as if this was old, casual news.

That one stung. I stared at him blankly, my mind scattered in a billion different trails. "But . . . you, and me. . ."

Eli shook his head slowly, chuckling. "There was never a  _you_  and me. Ever. The last few months have been the biggest joke I've had in a while." He stopped chuckling to explain. "I got kicked off the fishing team that we have down at First Beach. I was losing my cool and needed some attention. What better way to get some than to bring back the missing girl and seem to fall for her? Completely original." A proud smirk was etched on his face while he spoke. "Very dramatic, yeah. But dating the hottest girl around? Much better for my image." His stare probed into mine. "Face it—you're old news."

I simply continued to stare at him, my anger boiling over the top. My mouth was dry, my thoughts blank with shock.

"Being shy now, are you,  _Jordan_?" Eli sneered in my face, breath swirling in front of me when he laughed.

The boy that had once brought butterflies to my stomach was making me sick. I wanted to do something, anything, to force him to move away, but I felt rooted to the spot. Out of nowhere, his hand whooshed in front of me, a blur until it smacked into my right cheek. The force of the blow caused me to collide back into a locker, my skin scraping against the floor.

"You're disgusting," I snarled breathlessly, cupping my cheek where it throbbed. The laughter ended abruptly when Eli's expression morphed into pure fury. His dark eyes flashed when red blossomed from his cheeks to the rest of his face.

"Say you love me!" he demanded.

I felt the fingers of my free hand slowly curl inward. "Nobody loves an ass."

Eli's face seemed to be turning purple. "You're just a little whore who shouldn't be alive," he spat. "It's obvious Sam only looks after you because he takes pity on you. You're a worthless screw-up who wants nothing more than attention and people to feel bad for you." He paused to take a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling with the intake. "YOU KNOW I'M RIGHT! I'M  _ALWAYS_ RIGHT!"

Eli's voice rang out through the empty halls, loud enough that it was a wonder why nobody came out to stop him. I kept staring at him, wondering how I'd missed this side of him. My mind wandered back to when we were biking, to when Seth had come out. I vividly remembered his pointless fury to his cousin, all for interrupting us…

My thoughts were ended with a burst of pain. His fists zipped forward, pounding into my face repeatedly. The pain wasn't nearly as bad as the betrayal that cracked my heart in two.

"Stop," I commanded in a croak.

I tried to raise my fists to punch him back, but it only landed as a sharp shove to his chest. Eli crashed back into the wall on the opposite side of the hall, his feet catching on the edge of the stairs as he rolled down, bloody hands flailing. I stumbled, swaying as my sight wavered, before falling over. I groaned at the throb of pain throughout my body.

"Somebody needs to—!" My loud shout was cut off as a foot connected into my temple, sending an explosion of pain into my head.

"Shut up!" Eli hissed. With my face pressed into the floor and pain engulfing my body, I couldn't move. I could hear Eli's shoe squeaking on the floor as he pulled it back, raising it to give me another blow. . .

Until Eli's head snapped up. He stared at something on the wall. He muttered something incoherent before jogging down the hallway. I waited until the patter of his shoes on the floor disappeared before sitting up, rubbing my forehead.

When my sight returned, the first thing I noticed was the clock on the wall, showing that the release bells would ring in just three minutes. Guess I had been saved by the bell. I didn't brighten at the thought while I gathered myself with steady breaths.

My hand spread across a locker. Standing would be a challenge, but I didn't want attention. Numbness captured most of my body, blocking out the thoughts of Eli all together. Or maybe that was what early signs of a concussion felt like.

Muttering to myself, it took me a minute to process the fact that I was being watched. When the realization hit, I raised my head. Back down the hall in the window stood a man, his eyes trained on me. If that wasn't weird enough, I noticed the blackness of his eyes. They caused the hair on my arms to rise slightly. He almost looked like another Quileute, except his skin was snowy white.

A strange feeling rose in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't really explain it. The feeling seemed to be somewhat of a stir, set off by the man's eyes; unless I was going to be sick, or maybe I was going into shock from all of this.

After a few more heartbeats of staring at the man and trying to figure out if he was real or not, the bell rang. I jumped back into a locker, my head whipping back in forth as students swarmed into the hall.

Crap.

I didn't want to find out what caused that feeling, especially if it meant I might embarrass myself in front of the whole grade. My shoes squeaked as I turned and made a beeline for the door, ignoring the pound of my head or the shaking of my muscles. I hesitated only once to glance at the window.

Nobody was there.

_Calm down,_ I thought to myself.  _It's all in your head. Focus, you need to get out of here._

Shaking off my discomfort, I burst through the doors ahead of the chattering crowd, quickly wiping the blood away from my nose. I had to get home, fast. The plan was already completely formed in my head, ready to go. But the only problem was how to get there.

There. Eli's bike was parked on the sidewalk where he'd left it this morning. I rushed for it, snatching up the handles and raced down the cement at the speed of the wind. I needed to get out of here, fast. Sam couldn't know, or Nicole. Maybe I'd leave a note, after I crashed the bike, hoping that somehow, Eli would feel the impact right in his too cute, disgusting face.

 


	11. Move Along

_"'Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven, even, no."_  - The Script.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Move Along

_May 28th, 2004._

* * *

_One, two; one, two; one, two._  My feet rolled along with the pedals of my bike. Thin branches swooped like birds, and leaves whooshed over me as if they were the soft feathers of extended wings. They were the least of my struggles, though. My throat felt like sandpaper and my thighs burned from the bumps of the rough ground that rocked my bike. Exhaustion was heavy on my shoulders, but I used the position of leaning over the handlebars to keep my speed up. Leaves crushed under the thick tires as I pressed onward.

I didn't really know where I was,—everything was green, wet, and completely foreign. I didn't recognize the thin, wispy trees that were spaced too far apart, the dead patches of grass, or the mist hanging over the moist ground. This was the kind of place that belonged in a scary movie. It was the creepy, empty woodland into which the main character ventured, only to get devoured by a bloodthirsty mutant. I was in that exact situation, except the cold of the night was the only monster in this sea of shadows. It approached me at sunset, circling me. A while later, the deadly cold was jabbing at me, running its icy claws across my scalp and lingering on the back of my neck. The sun had sunk, and so did the cold's bite until it was piercing into my bones.

My mind was numb. Everything seemed to be closing in around me. What used to be the forest in front of me looked more like a blurred tunnel. My thoughts trudged through my spinning head, the glass embedded in my palm the only evidence of what had caused this.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_! I was stupid. It was stupid to believe that just because we'd been dating for a long time and I'd had a crush on him that love would suddenly pop up and mean something. I was stupid to believe him. But at the same time, he was stupid to believe he'd get away with this.

Running away would be the pathetic thing to do. What I needed was revenge. A gnawing, insatiable burn swelled inside of me every time I thought of Eli. He had not only broken me and opened a hidden side of me. He had started a game and assumed he had won.

What he didn't know was this wasn't over just yet. I was coming for him.

After I'd stolen his bike, the sirens of the police sounded. I ignored them, forcing myself to keep going even as the concussion threatened to bring me down. I'd made it home and snatched a couple of the "forbidden bottles" Sam hid on top of the cupboards, along with an old bike out of the garage in the middle of the night, and set out. I hadn't looked back since.

Maybe I was just being dramatic. But I was a 13-year-old girl as of a few weeks ago, so that kind of thing was normal . . . right? The thought caught me off guard. I'd been asking myself that same question almost nonstop since I hit the trails, but still hadn't come to a conclusion. My thoughts were so scattered, just answering my own questions seemed to be nearly impossible.

Instead of trying to fight the fading effects of the alcohol, I slowed and hopped off the bike.

The search for Eli wasn't easy. I'd waited in the ditch by his house, but he never showed up that night. Even three days after the incident, he wasn't there. I'd come to the conclusion that he was running like a foolish coward. Once again, I turned my back and disappeared into the forest.

If the fact that I had nothing to work with made this hard enough, the conditions made finding him seem impossible. Rain constantly dribbled down from the sky, each droplet splashing down like a bullet. Ice somehow still managed to cover the tree branches and the final black leaves clung desperately to their ends, another reminder of the death brought by the cold. Hunger was the strongest ally of the chill. This same threat attacked me, twisting my stomach, trying to weaken me. I was a falling victim who would probably trip right into death's open arms in just another day. If I was normal, I probably would be dead by now.

I had two choices. Choice A: Suck it up and go find some food. Or, choice B: Sit around, pathetically starving, with nobody but myself to blame as I tried to figure out my next move. I really wasn't too psyched about dying due to my own stubbornness, so I went with choice A.

With a puff of air that bit the insides of my cheeks and throat, I leaned down and ripped a knife from the thin cord wrapped around my ankle. I'd picked up this technique from Paul and Sam—it was an easy way to keep your pockets free while always having self-defense an arm's reach away.

The knife clenched tightly in my palm, I drew in a sharp breath and started to jog into the woods. I slashed at a tree with my knife every few feet, the blade hissing as it sliced straight through the dying bark. This idea seemed pretty smart to me, as it was a simple solution to being able to return to my bike and not get any more lost then I already was.

Clouds drifted lazily over the rising moon, swallowing every beam of light from the sky. I clenched my chattering teeth and continued through the forest, using very careful footwork and holding the knife in my numb hand, as it was my only protection from the wilderness as it started closing in.

It was going to be another very long night.

()()()

The moon had leaped high in the sky by the time I broke through the final stretch of woodland. The absence of trees left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I paused, my heart racing as I turned in a slow circle, trying to make out my surroundings. The ground scraped my feet, rough and careless.

Sensing no danger, I bent down and slid the dulled blade back into its usual place on my ankle. That was a mistake. Just that fraction of a second could've ended my life.

White, brilliant light flooded my eyes. An awful screech blasted through my ears. I stood there, not moving like a moron for a heartbeat more. Then instinct kicked in. My body jerked back, tumbling down a ditch. Thorns nipped at me, and hideous branches ripped at my face and shoulders. I manage to stop after a few minutes, standing up and trying to ignore the trickling blood that clouded my vision. Coughs rattled and pounded in my chest when I dived under a thick bush for cover.

I waited, straining to hear any sign of movement. There was only silence. I choked on my own breath, recoiling into my lousy cover. Two ghostly streams of light swirled around somewhere in the distance, and then faded off into the fog as the car drove away.

Fire was ablaze in my chest. Hot, burning stakes stabbed my lungs. I hesitated a moment longer, and then let out a puff of white breath. I must have been holding a lot in, because the mist of my breath kissed my numb nose before it sunk to the ground.

With the scents of the forest waking my mind up again, the hunger clamped its jaws down on my stomach, reminding me to get back on the move. I dragged myself out from the bush and onto my elbows. I jumped up once I was free and did a quick three-sixty to check for danger. I found nothing but the cloud of smoke hanging high in the air and glimpses of rooftops.

A town.

I jogged a few paces forward, and then skidded to a stop when I realized I was on pavement. A sidewalk. My shoulders hunched, trying to hide myself, but I realized that wasn't necessary. I straightened up again, taking in my surroundings.

Many things were recognizable. Frost spiked on brick buildings, cracked sidewalks, and wood houses that slumped toward the dull grey street as if they were exhausted. If the condition of this town didn't give it away, the sting of pollution in the air would have.

This was the poorest community on our reservation. It was worn out from centuries of struggle, and on top of that, the town appeared trampled and lame from the failed attempts to heal it. I could recall some tales in school of the people in these towns joining gangs for power, snatching whatever they could through open windows, stealing from the lucky families who could afford a bite or two to eat, and digging through overflowing dumpsters. For a moment, I remembered Z and his gang, as well as the others. More of them would be around here, too, meaning that they had to be getting food from somewhere.

Perfect.

I wasn't going to miss an easy opportunity to snag a half-eaten sandwich or forgotten lunch. The hunger was trying to draw me home again which wasn't an option. So there really wasn't any other choice. Like they say, eat or be eaten.

Sunlight stabbed through the treetops, tiny tastes of dawn. Only a few minutes left until it'd be easy to spot the strange girl racing across the street. In that case, there was no time to waste.

I gulped in a blazing wave of smoky air and bolted for the nearest alley in a mad twenty-yard dash. Long strides helped me to move like a deer. Swiftly and gracefully, I continued my rush until I was enveloped in darkness.

Once my eyes adjusted, the dim light brought figures and shapes to life. So the alley wasn't really  _that_ dark. Scanning the area around me, I noticed this place really was, well, trashy. Limp wooden doors barely clung to moss-covered walls, and trash overflowed from the dumpsters littering the floor—wait, trash?

There was the food I'd been coming for, piled high like a mountain. Any normal person would've wrinkled their nose and sprinted right back out of the alley. I wasn't normal, though, and in my starved mind I could hear angels singing at the thought of food.

When I started for the dumpster, a meaty hand, if you could call it that, clamped down on my shoulder. The nails were chipped and broken, but the ends were pointed like claws. Dirt crusted the skin while a thick layer of curling hair blended it all together. I gagged, trying to ignore the awful stench.

Silently, another hand caught my left shoulder. Jaw clenching, I risked a glance at the more feminine hand on my opposite shoulder. Just then, a hot set of what felt like paws but were probably just dirtier, hairy hands snagged my arms. I gave no reaction, waiting to see what would happen.

Sour breath wrapped around my mouth and nose, triggering another gag. With a cackle, a rough voice broke the silence. "Oooh, another runaway, eh? Is that what we got here?" Curious fingers slid under my hair and ran along the back of my scalp. Goosebumps shot up on my arms. "Mommy or Daddy got sick of a little brat?"

Somewhere behind me, a high-pitched voice started to snort and gurgle…or was that a man laughing? The sound drowned out my snap of a response. I was getting a faint idea that this was some sort of low-life gang. I really wanted to get some justice here, but then there was a voice that froze me cold.

"Chill out, man. I got this."

Faint, nervous laughter filled the alley. I allowed my stiff body to relax slightly while the meaty, furry hand slid off my shoulders. I could almost feel the pressure of the high tension melt away as the gang of men retreated. They were all moving away on one simple little command, from a simple little voice. The denial tried to push back the thoughts. He was too perfect to have resided into groups of trashy people like this…wasn't he?

There was only one way to be sure. My lips parted, chapped with the cold. His name was a bitter whisper, sharper than the breeze slipping through the alley. "Eli?"

A soft chuckle sounded around me, playing with my ears. "Yeah. Since when did you get a working brain?"

"Probably around the same time you decided chilling with scum was cool," I snapped. My voice was frosty, but it wasn't an accident.

"I've been in worse company," he retorted smoothly. The words were pointed at me, meant to sting. They almost did, beneath the rage that swelled inside of me.

I could feel the probing of that green gaze on the side of my face as Eli circled me: predator versus prey. In this case, he was the lion and I was the spooked zebra. "Yeah, the poor girl probably did a ton of work to get you on her side. What'd she do to convince you? Give you all her panties so she could have something else up her—"

I stopped speaking abruptly as I realized Eli's face had turned purple from rage.

"I can't believe I had the stomach to pretend I even  _liked_  you! Nobody should, nobody ever will. You're too much of a mess. A blind man could see it. WHAT IS  _WRONG_ WITH YOU?"

Eli didn't give me enough time to reply. His fist hammered me right between the eyes, snapping my head back. His other fist connected into my stomach. He thrust his hand up into my ribs, crushing the breath out of me. The world around me spun, my eyes rolling back in my head a little when I sucked in air. With his movement, every hit, I could almost feel the triumph in having power over me pulsing off his skin. Just the sense of that sent the rage bottled inside me swelling until it popped, right there.

Before I even thought about what I was doing, my body ducked under his arm. A kick to the knees, a punch to the bump of his spine connected his neck. He shouted furiously but did not go down yet. Instead, he pushed himself into me, yanking the knife from my pocket. He slashed his hand through the air as I twisted away, pointing the tip of the deadly blade straight at my throat.

A cruel smile spread over his lips. His chest rose and fell, his black bangs shadowing his expression. He then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, raising the knife as he preparing to strike again, revealing popping veins as he fumed. "You really do deserve to die, Jordan Uley."

And they said  _I_  was the crazy one?

There was nothing I'd done wrong to deserve to  _die_. But I didn't bother to think on that. My mind was set on the fact that Eli was mental, his actions those out of an insane temper, and that I was not going to allow this boy to control my life and riddle me with fear. He was pushing me to my limit, and I could slowly feel the fight, the need to survive, take over.

One of my hands lashed forward, knocking the knife out of Eli's grip. The other grabbed his head and yanked it down to my rising knee, connecting with a snap. My ears were roaring too loudly for me to hear his reaction. I slipped an arm around his neck and turned him clean over in a fluid flip, pressing him hard against the cool pavement of the alley.

My fists, curled and tight, crashed into his jaw over and over again. He kicked at me, but I grabbed his foot and twisted his ankle until I heard a pop. He thrashed his arms and tried to wiggle away. I shoved him hard into the wall.

There were a few times where he got lucky and gave me a good kick or punch, but there was nothing on it. I could almost feel his body weakening. Everything I delivered was a counter attack in my mind. Payback. I couldn't think straight, but my fists kept moving to keep him off me. I wasn't going to let him continue to capture me in fear. He'd broken me, cracked the final scar in my heart. I was going to break him.

Eli braced his hands on the wall and shoved backward, sharply inhaling at the small movement. I stumbled back, dropping into a crouch while Eli twisted around to stand with his back to the wall and slid to the ground. He stared at me, his trembling, dirty hands raised up to cover his face. In the spaces of his fingers, I could see his eyes. My gaze probed into his. In the depths of the deepest shade of brown, I found only pure hatred. I returned the stare, but said nothing and made sure my face gave away no emotion.

"You're so screwed up," he wheezed after a few minutes, breaking the tense silence.

"So I've heard. But hey, no worries! The feeling's mutual."

I didn't want to hear his voice again. I swung my foot forward, letting it collide into his jaw. His head snapped back with an awful crack, eyes closing, blood spurting from his mouth. Eli's body thumped to the ground. He coughed once and then went still.

Strangely, there was little guilt inside me. Just fire, tongues of anger. I balled my hands together and stared at them for a moment before swiftly slipping out of the alley and down the street. I walked quickly under the moonlight and swaying branches, trying to hide like a shadow in the night.

Even though my body felt much lighter from the relief brought by my malicious revenge, I was unsure about exactly what I was, or who I was. The shy, muted, struggling girl was gone. I was a fighter and a survivor. Maybe I was starting to go crazy, too. But that was okay—I liked this Jordan Uley much better.

Just then, a howl rose from the forest. It sounded nothing like the normal lonely cries of a wild animal, but more like a powerful song. A feather of heat brushed down my spine. I couldn't name the emotion brought by the sound. It almost felt like a warning.

Even though they felt like bricks, I forced my feet to move faster and melted back into the woods, becoming nothing more than a shadow once again. Or, at least, temporarily. It was time to allow my hell of a life to move along once again.

 


	12. Tick, Tock

[ **Warning** : This chapter contains violence that may be too intense for some readers.]

 _"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Tick, Tock

_March 12th, 2004._

* * *

I couldn't explain what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn't thinking at all. There were blurs of people coming and going, like a movie on fast-forward. The pale room around me was blank, and my arms rested on the cool table while the chatter around me continued, a blank hum in the background.

Jacob and Nicole sat close enough that their elbows touched while they listened to Jacob's friends, Embry and Quil, jabber on about nonsense. Quil patted his thick, curly hair and grinned, his mouth moving as he joked about who knows what. Embry tugged at his traditionally long hair and laughed along with Quil. Occasionally, the group glanced over at me, but otherwise I was given much-needed space.

It had been a couple of weeks since I had returned. At first, Sam was angry, giving me hours of lecturing after I'd cleaned myself up. But after seeing that all I was going to do was nod every now and then in response, he gave up and started to worry instead.

The truth was, I was fine. My head was held high as long as the sun was up. I could silently trudge through the days perfectly. But at night, with Paul's absence heavy on my shoulders, I allowed everything to fall down. I would take a little sip of the bottle until I crashed unconsciously into turning tides of haunted dreams.

As long as there was peace, I could keep a level head easily enough. Everything in the cafeteria was generally peaceful. That was, until  _she_ walked in.

This was just part of my daily routine. I tried my best to keep out of it, but it was hard to miss the sound of the cafeteria doors crashing open, ten minutes after everyone in the eighth grade had already settled down. Beth was right on time.

She set her shoulders back and raised her chin, sensing the interested audience. The silence of the room showed the fear of everyone around her. I snorted inwardly, watching her face and eyes as they gleamed with satisfaction. She rubbed her glossy lips together and studied the faces of the crowd. She paused for a moment, most likely for effect, before she flipped her hair over her shoulder and raised a hand. She curled in her fingers to gesture her huddled pack of wannabes forward.

Beth led her group down the open aisle. Her heels clicked as she walked; each of them followed, so close that it was a wonder they didn't trip over each other. Most groups of people ducked their heads together and frantically started to whisper. The girls did, anyway. Numerous idiotic guys were too busy checking Beth out to realize their food was raised halfway to their mouths.

It took me another minute to realize the girls were heading straight for my table. My eyes narrowed, matching Beth's. I could tell by the way her lips curled into a smirk that she was about to start harassing me again. I'd had enough of it outside, in the halls, and on the stairs before school, but in front of the whole grade? That was far past overdramatic.

I could feel the whole room watching, mesmerized, as she marched up to us. I arched an eyebrow, ignoring everyone around me. Beth was nothing but trash to me.

I saw the curious glances and knew that Beth and her annoying crew were behind me now, but there was nothing I could do, not while my head was still spinning. Seconds, minutes, maybe hours passed, but I didn't respond.

One sharp prod of a sharp nail brought me back to reality.

"Hey." Beth snickered. It was faded at first but soon clear again, almost as if water had been blocking my hearing but suddenly drained away. She continued to poke me. My hands curled into fists while I imagined snapping those carefully placed nails clean off.

"Hey. Hey,  _Jordy_." A musical laugh, a harmony of her followers, floated around the room in response to her moronic nickname for me.

The cafeteria was probably quiet enough for everyone to hear a pin drop, but the roaring in my ears didn't make it seem like that. It was as if with every poke, Beth was pushing me closer and closer to my limit.

"Enjoying yourself?" I snapped. My head turned just in time to see her smiling. She probably felt very accomplished at having forced words out of me. It was a first.

"Not really." Beth shrugged her shoulders. She stepped around me to place her palms on the table and get in my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Quil stared as her shirt fell. Jacob and Nicole gave him a nudge at the same time before their eyes turned to me again. I kept my eyes trained on the table in a way to control myself while Beth spoke again, this time louder.

"But I  _have_  been enjoying Eli. Ever since he's been out of the hospital, we've been very . . . busy." She grinned at me again.

I scoffed to myself. I'd already heard, via gossip in the halls, about Eli's long, painful hospitalization. He really  _did_  deserve it, but something about Beth's words, just the way she said them, set a spark of fury in my veins.

I could feel Beth's eyes flick back and forth when she studied my expression. The soft laugh was basically breathed right into my ear. She slapped a hand on my cheek, nails scraping the skin. She laughed when I stiffened before stepping back and giving high-fives to her giggling followers.

Nicole's lips moved. She glanced at Jacob, Quil, and Embry, but all of them were watching me. She continued to speak, but it was like she was on mute. The rage inside me erupted, and I was shaking from the aftershock. I pressed my fists into the table and jumped back, knocking a bragging Beth back a few steps. She squealed, her arms flailing around in a movement similar to those of flapping chicken wings.

"Look at you. Little Miss Perfect, squealing like a pig," I sneered. The words were full of venom, meant to sting and burn. I saw her nervously cast her eyes over the cafeteria, and then watched her flinch when she realized her audience was even more interested in the show. I advanced slower, the tips of my fingers trembling.

"That's what you are. A squealing pig, flopping your chest around because you'll never have anything better to do than show it all off to the boys so you can suck on anything that'll fit in your mouth."

She gasped, the sound louder than I would have expected. No, it wasn't just her. Nearly every kid had gasped while they stared in amazement. A collective whisper sent a buzz of noise through the room while Beth struggled for words.

"N-No," she murmured, awkwardly lifting herself up from the floor. Her clothes were wrinkled, hair frizzed. The flaws cracked her perfection and made her vulnerable.

"Excuse me?" I closed the distance. I towered over her, allowing my fury to blaze over my expression. The mocking tone of my voice and posture caused her eyes to glimmer with embarrassment.

"Please." Beth scoffed, straightening her shoulders. "Honey, you aren't even worth the dirt I spit on. And neither were your parents, which I heard is what made you so weird. Thank the  _Lord_  they're dead."

Normally, I would give her no further response but an eye roll, but this was different. It was different because the bottled up emotions were now set free. Different because she'd talked about my parents-she'd hit a sensitive spot. Her comment directed the conversation into a forbidden topic.

Time slowed, but the flames of rage inside me were let loose. The captivated audience and everything around me whisked away. My fist swung forward, feeling sluggish with the dragging of time.

_Tick, tock._

My fist met her lip, busting the skin and bringing a sprinkle of blood. Her eyes crinkled, mouth slowly opening as she screamed. The sound droned on while her body fell, thudding to the ground.

_Tick, tock._

Beth shuddered but pulled herself up. Smudges of makeup were all over her face. Tears ran down. Her mouth opened again, but no sound came out. She took a step at me, still in slow motion. I could have easily dodged her, but the slowness of time was weighing me down. It took forever just to bend my knees, and that was the only thing I had time for.

Claws dug into my scalp while furious fingers knotted in my hair. The thickness of each strand dulled the irritation of the yanking. I wasn't bothered by such a stupid move. I forced myself forward, knocking Beth back against the wall.

_Tick, tock._

Her body jerked and her mouth opened again. I tore myself back as fast as possible, but Beth's slow moving fingers caught my cheek. Blood welled up, hot and wet, sliding down my face in three distinct trails.

_Tick, tock._

I thought about punching her some more. Really, I wanted to beat her into a raw hamburger, and I could have. But as time dragged on, I realized that would take more time than I had. Surely teachers had already been notified and would end this before I could lay another hand on her.

So instead, I ducked under the points of her nails and reached out to grab a fancy chair, the ones that the richer kids paid to have at their tables. I ripped it off the ground, holding it up, feeling my small muscles flex under the weight. Beth's eyes widened, her arms slowly rising as if to protect her face.

I swung the chair hard enough to hear it crack. Strength pumped through my arms. I could feel the vibrations in the legs of the chair as it struck her. She cried out, crashing down to the ground while blood poured in between the spaces of her fingers.

Amazement surged inside me as I stared at the crumpled chair. What had I just done? There was no way that I could have. . .

_Tick, tock._

Blinking, I realized Beth was slowly trying to raise herself up. My foot lifted, and then hammered into her face, right under her chin. I leaned back away, my breathing heavy as I stared down at the thrashing form below me.

Eventually, Beth's jerking started to subside and blackness slid over her eyes. In a heartbeat, time sped up to its usual pace. I stood upright, chest heaving with my heavy breathing. I turned, surveying the scattered room, my expression twisted with fury and utter disgust.

Blood had splattered on the tables, swirling splashes of crimson in the pale cafeteria. My ears were ringing, my head spinning. The swelling in my throat made it hard to breathe. I simply stared, my burning eyes locked on the crumpled pile of Beth on the floor. I almost expected her to hop up, screaming about a broken nail. Only she didn't. Beth lay on the ground, not moving.

My eyes moved up to study the faces. Tremors shook my body and made it hard to see. The room was a shocked sea of silence.

Until someone screamed.


	13. Talk to Me

_"You can talk to me_  
 _Talk to me_  
 _You can talk to me_  
 _You can set your secrets free."_  - Stevie Nicks.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Talk to Me

_March 12th, 2004._

* * *

The scream seemed to last forever. Beth was still by my feet, and all eyes were on me. Mouths were open, gaping. Shock buzzed in the air, freezing everyone in place. Deep inside of me, past the burning, past the anger, and past my own shock, I knew I had to get away from there. Fast.

My legs moved quickly. I shoved away chairs blocking my way, racing through the still room. No heads turned. Nothing changed. It was almost as if everyone was frozen in time, with the scream breaking through the thick tension.

Once I had burst through the cafeteria doors, chaos erupted.

My dominant foot slid on the slick hallway, the other slipping on the smooth surface of the floor. I started to lift myself up, but was knocked down by a wave of frantic, terrified students when they swarmed down the hall and into the cafeteria.

"Oof." I spluttered and clenched my jaw while I was forced back against a locker. The shouts and cries echoing down the hall made me think that the panic was because I'd just beaten the life out of a kid. A well-known one, at that.

It was almost like I was invisible. The kids kept going, pushing and shoving while they poured past me. Nicole, Jacob, and Jacob's friends seemed to have all flowed out with the crowd. I stood and braced myself against the wall, my gaze darting around, searching for a way out. The door was jammed. Maybe the window? No, the wall was too slippery.

I didn't have much time to search. Again, everything changed in just a split second. A teacher tumbled down the stairs, her arms flailing. Her shrieks were loud enough to stop the stream of kids for a moment. It was hard to tell what she was saying because she was talking so quickly. But when she crumpled onto the floor and gave one last shout, her voice was heard clearly.

" _Help!_  There's a  _barbarian_  in the school! He's rabid, get the children! Help the children, _please!_ " The woman's eyes were wide while she let out a breath and went limp on the floor.

The words sent a jolt of confusion through me, but I pushed myself forward while the screams rose. My body dropped down, my arms raised over my neck protectively while I somersaulted through the frantic crowd. Kids were racing in both directions, desperately trying to escape.

In the panic, nobody even stopped to look at me. Eyes were wide with fear, all locked on exits. I could hear the shatter of windows as they broke and crashes as the doors were plowed down. Books were raining down from the rails of the floor above, papers flying around as if caught in tornados. Waves of kids were pressing out into the halls while others jumped clean over the rail, free falling into the midst of the chaos. Knowing that heading into the crowd was a death sentence, I dropped to the ground against the wall, breathing deeply while I tried to clear my thoughts.

When I focused, I started to notice other things. The crowd faded to a blur as my hearing caught the snarls and shouts bouncing down the hall around the corner. My eyes focused on the sharp edge of the wall. The man was coming this way. I could feel it.

He was probably the victim of a rabid animal: crazy and infected with disease, sick enough to burst into a school and rip into nearest flesh he could find. Goosebumps raised on my arms when I imagined the feel of teeth tearing skin. Then  _I_  would shake and burn, riddled with more disease.

 _Focus,_  I commanded.

I continued to crouch on the wall, my chest still while I waited. My heart was thrumming in my throat like the wings of a hummingbird. The man was coming, any second now.

_Thump, thump…thump, thump…thump, thump…_

Suddenly, the shouts and snarls were silenced. Or maybe they were just drowned out by the bellow of the teacher's protest. I blinked, and the next thing I knew, a man was charging toward me, his shoulder pressed into the wall while he avoided the thick crowds.

The first thing I noticed was that he was barefoot, his feet streaked with dried mud that traveled up his legs. He wore loose shorts that looked as if they were once jeans but were now torn slightly and weathered, riding low on his hips. His muscled arms pumped while he raced toward me, his broad chest rising and falling with every steady breath. In the last bit of the second that it took my eyes to sweep over him, I focused on his face. My stomach dropped as I recognized the man.

Paul.

I sucked in a breath when two heated arms scooped me up. I was in motion, wind rushing at my face while I lay, tensed in the rolling muscles of Paul's arms in utter shock. Paul. Paul! Paul was back, and Paul had come for me. A sudden rush of relief zapped my body and I slumped in his arms, feeling limp. Paul would know what to do—he would take care of this.

The crowds continued to flow, but Paul ignored them. He held me tight against his bare chest while he sprinted down the hall with amazing speed. His body never swayed, feet never losing the swift rhythm. Although tremors rocked through the foreign feeling of his body, the warmth of not only his skin, but also his return brought me back to life.

Neither of us spoke while Paul zipped toward the door, angling his body so his shoulder thrust it open. I covered my face against the waves of rain, hearing Paul's feet patter on the slippery pavement. Parting my arms slightly, I noticed that we were making our way through the teacher's parking lot. It was small enough for the minimum amount of staff, snuggled perfectly into the back of the school. The speed of Paul's exit would leave the teachers chasing him far behind. And never would they think to check here.

When we reached the far corner, Paul's arm muscles flexed and he dropped me gently on my feet. A sharp shiver hit me as he moved away from me, walking quickly down the parking lot. I took a minute to remember how to move before I followed after him.

I stared at Paul, flooded with emotions: loss, confusion, happiness, and relief. But he didn't seem to notice. He didn't speak. With a roll of his shoulders, he sauntered over to an expensive looking black car, popped the door open, and flicked his gaze over to me, still avoiding my eyes. His arm gestured for me to get in.

Not wanting to waste time, I hurried into to the passenger side, protecting myself from the rain with my arms. The soft leather seats swallowed me as I slid onto them, my skin sticky against the seat. Paul was already buckled into the driver's seat, his hands clenched on the wheel and the seatbelt strapped across his chest.

I met his dark, troubled gaze and found myself studying his face. It'd been many months since I'd seen him and he looked . . . older, somehow. The look in his eyes was more serious, like someone who had seen a darker side of the world. His hair was now cropped short, spiked and covered with droplets of rainwater. He'd abandoned sweatshirts and only wore a t-shirt, the sleeve rolled up to reveal round muscles and a black tattoo. I recognized the multiple faces of animals on the tattoo; it was just like Sam's tattoo.

Paul cleared his throat. I glanced up at his stare. He watched me patiently, his expression expectant.

I dropped my gaze to my lap, shifting awkwardly in my seat and staring at my balled fists. "Let's get out of here before we're caught. You have some serious explaining to do."

His reply was a curt nod and a rev of the engine. The next thing I knew, the car was shooting down the green, misty road and into the forest.

We drove in silence. The miles passed away like our steady breaths. Paul stared straight ahead, his eyes focused. Occasionally, his lips moved, like he was talking silently to himself. I kept my gaze expectant, but I didn't get a single word from him.

I could only manage the silence for so long. First, I started twirling my thumbs. Then, when I really wanted to speak, I would distract myself by humming. I could only hum so much, though. Eventually, I just couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Talk to me, Paul," I demanded.

Paul's shoulders shifted. His throat moved as he swallowed, fingers rearranging themselves over the wheel. His eyes set straight ahead. "Hi."

I instinctively tensed at the sound of his voice. It had changed so much since the last time we'd spoken. His voice was deeper, rougher. It was stronger, too, and not as jokingly cheerful as it used to be. I had a feeling that I was speaking to a stranger.

With another small breath, I spoke again in the same tone while staring at my hands. "More than that, Paul. I need answers. Where have you been? What's been going on? How did you know where I was?"

Paul didn't answer. He continued to stare straight ahead, his muscles flexing with the pressure of his hands. He wasn't even looking at me.

"What happened to you?" I growled.

When he didn't answer, I lifted my head to look at him. A blob of color, somehow out of place against the bright green forest caught my eye. I squinted as I strained to watch the blur as it moved. My eyes slanted when I realized that the blur was moving.

"Hit the brakes!"

My hands flew out when I shouted, one on the handle of the door, the other on Paul's strong arm.

The car squealed and shook while Paul's foot slammed down hard on the brakes. I could see his teeth gritting and feel his muscles moving as he swerved. My heart was racing as the car jerked to a stop. I watched Paul as his chest rose and fell. His dark eyes were narrowed, moving as they followed something outside.

Filled with sudden curiosity and relieved that Paul was unharmed, I pressed my hands into my seat to support myself and pushed myself up. I gazed out of the windshield, expecting to see just a few passing black-tail deer.

But there were no deer. In fact, the creature wasn't a deer at all. Standing before the car was a giant wolf.

He was  _huge_. I never knew wolves could get that big. His fur was jet black, slicked down with the rain. He was rather broad, filled out as if there were strong, rounded muscles beneath his thick fur. His pointy, white teeth were bared and gleaming, his ears pressed back against his head.

All I could do was stare. The wolf moved closer, his broad shoulders shifting in rhythm with his steps. He huffed once, dipping his head while he peered through the windshield, his eyes locked on Paul. I blinked, and the wolf was gone.

My lungs screamed and my ears popped. I opened my mouth, letting out a big gust of air. My gaze was trained on the road where the wolf had been standing. Well, at least I thought it was a wolf. Maybe it was just my head making up things again. But Paul had seen it, too.

"Paul, what the—" I paused, cutting myself off while I noticed the empty seat next to me. Puzzled, I raised my head, only to see Paul strolling over to my door.

He looked so casual, one hand in his pocket, the other raking through his hair. He looked as if it were completely normal to move that quickly without a sound. He didn't seem to notice as he stepped around the car, one hand reaching for the handle.

Paul popped open the door, extending a hand toward me. I couldn't see his face, but I knew the rage was still there; his hand was shaking. I felt a sudden twinge of irritation at his sullen mood. Letting out a soft exhale, I slipped my hand into his and let him pull me up.

The second I heard the click of the door shutting, I went into action.

My shoulder twisted when I dropped back, yanking Paul into a stumble. He was more sure-footed and heavier than I'd thought he would be, but it didn't matter. I was still moving as he stumbled, my body ducking under a frantic swing from his arm. My foot pressed down onto Paul's while my body crashed into his, forcing him down onto the gritty road in one mighty shove.

I was shaking. My hands quivered, fingers blurring. I pressed them onto his chest while I slid my feet back to balance myself. My teeth ground together, my eyes locked on his. His shoulders shifted roughly underneath me, but I wasn't letting him go anywhere.

"Paul," I began in a rough voice, forcing the words through my teeth. "What's wrong with you?"

Paul still refused to speak. His throat expanded slightly when he swallowed, and he rolled his head to the side, pressing it against the ground. Pebbles were embedded in his exposed skin, little dots of dirt creating defined patterns around the pebbles. I continued to wait, ticking the time away in beat with his choppy breaths. Eventually, his chest started to heave. His hands curled into fists and were slowly raised in my direction.

Still, I didn't loosen up. I continued to stare, my hands twisting slightly in reaction to the feverish temperature of his skin. I could feel my face scrunch slightly in confusion.

I didn't realize exactly how big of a mistake I had made until Paul exploded.

The sensation was like flying. I shot through the air like a bullet out of a gun, the world whipping by me in a smear of green and grey. Everything happened so fast; I didn't understand it. Somehow, my brain registered the danger and ordered my hands to stretch out. My fingers wrapped around the branches of a tree, grasping to pull myself to a stop. I swayed slightly, a small trickle of crimson dripping off my scalp where it had scraped against the tree.

Once I had steadied myself, my surroundings became clearer, and I was acutely aware of the blood trailing down my face. I lifted my fingers to my forehead, making contact with the hot liquid. When I lowered my hand in front of my face, I stared at the blood in confusion, for a moment.

It was then that the snarling sounded.

It started off slow at first, soft, even. It wasn't long until it grew, thundering like the roar of high winds and the crack of lightning. Time seemed to drag on around me as I lifted my feet, shifting my position until I was facing what I expected to be a ferocious beast…

What met my eyes wasn't human, but wasn't a beast, either.

A wolf, too large to be ordinary, slid up from his crumpled stance on the ground and into a crouched, defensive one. Its gray pelt was matted with water, though it didn't seem to notice. The wolf lowered its head, glaring at me, and it snarled once more, shaking his head. Droplets of saliva flew from his lips and splattered to the ground, blending with the rain. It lifted its paw and reared back.

Even a complete idiot could have guessed what would happen next.

The wolf lunged toward me, his paws pounding against the soft soil and claws upturning thick, black earth. Swiftly, I dropped to the ground, dodging his charge. The wolf barreled into the thick trunk of the tree I had used to upright myself earlier, snarling and snapping.

The impact that should have crushed his skull didn't seem to bother him; he growled again, shaking it off and turning back toward me. This time, when he charged, I managed to strike his back leg with one hard shove of my foot. As he buckled to the ground, I rolled out from underneath him. Taking this as a good opportunity, I grabbed his front leg near the ankle bone and twisted; with a sickening pop, it fell limp.

While the wolf righted himself, snarling out in fury, I pressed my palms flat against the ground. I hurriedly lifted myself to my feet, gazing the wolf and immediately lifted my arms, mocking surrender.

He growled lightly, his eyes scanning my hands and then dropping to my face. I stared into his eyes, recognizing the dark features. Slowly, a smirk etched its way onto my lips.

"Whoa, " I breathed.

The wolf—Paul—seemed to relax, his posture slumping and becoming less tense. I watched as he began to quiver, his form shaping back into a human. I looked at Paul and realized he wasn't wearing any clothing. I cleared my throat quietly and quickly looked away. When I heard footsteps nearing me, I turned back to face him.

Dressed in his attire from before, he approached me. I noticed the heat that seemed to be pulsing off him. The warmth was magnetic, pulling me in. I found myself leaning closer, questions swirling inside my head.

"Why are you so hot?" I froze, my throat tightening and the subsided heat again rushed in my face the second after I blurted out my question. "Warm! I mean, why are you so warm?"

Paul grinned and gave a chuckle but made no comment. He watched the swaying of the trees above us. "Uh, it's an . . . adaptation. Warmth keeps us from freezing to death. And it's an advantage."

I nodded, forcing my gaze on the bumpy trail ahead. "Against what?"

"Oh, you would know who I'm talking about if you thought about it. Something horrible . . . irritating, problematic, heartless. . ."

"Jacob?"

Paul grinned, chuckling quietly. He stretched his arms out, causing his sleeves to slide farther up his shoulder. I averted my eyes while he spoke, but I could still see his dark gaze in the corner of my eyes. "The Cold Ones."

I felt the breath in my throat hitch. An image of those red, hungry eyes flashed across my mind and I clenched my fists, swallowing back the bile in my throat. "Vampires."

"It's good to see that you're already aware of the supernatural."

"You get to  _kill_  them?"

Paul nodded, kicking a rock out of his way. He shoved his hands in his pockets, but I could still see that they were clenched and shaking. Something was upsetting him. I pushed back my curiosity and stepped in front of him, raising my hands so they hit the hard surface of his chest, stopping him. I met his gaze.

There was a short pause until I spoke. "You've missed a lot."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I know." He was quiet for a moment. "I've been watching for a while."

My eyes swept over his face. I nodded once. In silence, we both began to trudge out of the forest, knowing exactly where we were both heading without discussing it. The forest was damp and somewhat gloomy, the slight sunlight filtering between the clouds covering the floor with thousands of intertwining shadows. The droplets that captured the light shimmered. When necessary, Paul watched carefully while I made my way over the thick, snarled roots of trees, under knobby branches, or over the pointed thorns of bland, scattered underbrush.

The breeze ran its icy fingers through my hair, brushing against my shoulders. I shuddered a little, though Paul didn't seem bothered; he merely stood closer to me, the heat radiating off him heating my body.

Once we reached the cliffs, I stopped and turned to Paul, letting one of the many questions out. "Why did you have to leave?"

Paul glanced at me then turned his head in a different direction, sighing lightly. "I couldn't stay. I get set off easily. If I was around someone and got pissed . . . I would phase."

I didn't say anything. Instead, I peered over the rush of water while all of this settled in. The rush of the current crashed against the mossy boulders in fizzy, white sheets, spewing out into the air. My feet shifted slightly, causing some of the ground below me to crumble into the river.

My eyes were fixed in the waves as I imagined myself as that little pebble, caught in them right now. I imagined the tug of the water on my skin as it led me along, taking me farther before emptying me out on an island, somewhere far, far away. Somewhere where things weren't so complicated.

"Paul," I murmured, breaking the comfortable silence between us. "What do you think would happen if I jumped?"

At the sound of my voice Paul's head lifted, meeting my gaze. His eyebrows scrunched slightly. "Jumped where?"

I smiled a little, dropping my gaze and waving my hand at the water below me. "If right now, I jumped. What would happen?"

For a long moment, Paul was quiet. His dark brown gaze was burning on the corner of my eyes, but I didn't look at him directly. "I'd catch you." He paused before adding childishly, "Duh."

"No." I laughed lightly to myself, shaking my head. "I mean, what if you didn't catch me?"

Paul was silent. I continued to stare at the rush of water, waiting for him to answer me. But he didn't. Slowly, I swung my head around to look at him.

He was shaking. His whole body seemed to be going into some sort of panic, jerking and shuddering. Paul's dark eyes were fire, smoldering. Heat seemed to be rolling off his skin. He stared at me, the fury looking as if it would cause him to explode.

"So that's it?!" Paul's voice boomed through the distance between us, reaching my ears before I could even register it. "The going gets tough, so you just throw yourself off a damn cliff and then  _boom_ , problem solved!"

I didn't answer, but just stared at him, my eyebrow curving at the outburst.

"You're not like that, Jordan," Paul continued, his ranting voice still steaming. "I know you. Don't ever say that.  _Ever_."

It took me a few minutes to speak. I held his gaze, my expression smooth and my body still.

"Excuse me, Paul," I started slowly, my mouth slowly moving to form the shape of the words. "But please, take a little joke. It couldn't hurt."

Paul just stared at me before letting out a big gust of air, his chest dropping with the release of breath. He brought his hand to the back of his neck, awkwardly dropping his gaze to the ground. "Sorry. . . I didn't mean it, honest. Lately I'm just so. . ."

"Out of it?"

He nodded slowly, his gaze flickering up to meet mine. "Yeah."

"I know the feeling." I gave him a reassuring nod and then moved away from the water, distancing myself as much as possible.

The next thing I knew, Paul's arms were around my shoulders, wrapping me into a warm, soft embrace. I found myself returning the hug. My lips turned up in a hint of a smile.

"You don't care that I might have killed that girl, right?"

Paul gave a chuckle. "Might have? That girl's good as gone. Who taught you how to do something like that when I wasn't around?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"So?" Paul shrugged, lifting his wrist as if examining an imaginary watch. "I've got time. Can we get something to eat though?"

Smirking at his antics, I nodded and stepped back, starting for the trail. "Yeah, I guess I'm pretty hungry too. I can explain on the way back to Sam's."

Paul grinned, jogging after me. "Sounds like a plan to me. But hurry up, will ya? I'd die for a good sandwich right now."

I narrowed my eyes in a fake glare. "Don't jinx it."

He just laughed and gestured for me to start talking. I walked with him, starting to explain all of what had happened, right from the start. He listened, too, staying close and always trying to make some sort of joke in between my breaks. I didn't complain, no matter how stupid the things he said were. Because that was what a friend was for.


	14. The Famous Jordan Uley

_"The worst things in life come free to us."_  - Ed Sheeran.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

The Famous Jordan Uley

_May 11th, 2005._

* * *

I paced the driveway, my thoughts scattered. My fingers ran across the weeds that lined the driveway, the soft tips brushing against my fingers. I smiled a little, the light humming I was making becoming in sync with the wind.

When puddles grew more frequent beneath my feet, I studied my reflection. My skin still held its natural tone, my eyes were still the same dark blue, and my hair was still long and black, wavy down to my shoulders, some strands golden in the sunlight. But, in a way, I was different. In the past few months, I had changed. I had turned fourteen on the sixth of May. It was not something of much meaning, just a higher number, but it was significant in the change that it brought.

Physically, I had aged. My hair had grown out, spreading out across my shoulders. My eyes had darkened to a deeper blue, and my body had completely matured. I didn't know why, but I was a lot taller, too. I measured five foot eleven on the dot. The height brought a slender yet toned look to my body, and new strength that had no source. Still, the physical changes were the easiest things to accept.

When I turned fourteen, the number of years I'd been on the earth simply increased by one. Yeah, that was normal, but on that day, I was also thirteen. I was fourteen, thirteen, twelve, ten, eight, seven, and three. The years piled up inside me, and the memories they brought kept me that way.

I was three because the memory of my parent's death made me the way I am.

I was seven because I tried to isolate myself and escape the attention.

I was eight because everyone thought I needed help, but I wouldn't take it. Why? Because I didn't  _need_  it. I could survive without anyone breathing down my neck every minute of every day.

I was ten because Paul was there to offer support, but at the same time, I couldn't completely trust him. He'd changed, too: grown taller, became more muscular, and had moved forward without me, leaving me in the dust of fading memories. I couldn't be sure about what had happened on the day that he had burst into the school. The images of the wolves I'd seen flashed behind my eyelids. Wolves, one black and one grey. Wolves with dark eyes that I knew all too well, yet at the same time, were strangers. I left the images of them go without much thought. It was hard enough to even trust my own eyes, much less crazy children's tales.

I was also thirteen because I carried the weight of murder on my shoulders. Beth Anderson was pronounced dead. The story was broadcasted on the news on March 15th, 2004. Beth had died from fatal injuries. I, the maniac child, was to blame.

The cops were already on the search. They couldn't find Sam's house because it was hidden deep in the reservation, but they found his office. I remembered being there one afternoon, in his spacious office placed in the Quileute postal building, the center of the village, when the front door was kicked down. Panicked, Sam managed to shove any evidence of his presence in his suitcase while he hid the two of us in a secret opening in the wall.

Thankfully, the cops couldn't find either of us. After it was clear they had left, Sam's boss came and gave us the green light. I was also thankful that Sam's boss was nice—he had fired Sam, but he didn't report him.

That day, we came to the conclusion there was no chance for me to return to school. I would never continue my education again. Nicole was sent off to be educated at home with Jacob to keep the two of them out of trouble. I was going to go with them, but Billy didn't think I should be out wandering while I was being searched for, so I kept Sam company. We talked about what had happened, although I often found myself blanking out whenever I was pushed about my feelings. Sam didn't like that much, and he'd taken to going out to work on a building project in the forest when stress hit him too hard. Sometimes, Jacob and Nicole would come back from "school" and hang out with me while Sam was out. I didn't talk to them much—it was hard for me to even understand their words unless they were blunt and clear. My mind was spinning far too fast. It didn't matter either way, because Nicole wasn't planning on putting effort into trying to hold conversation with her blank-eyed sister, and Jacob wasn't any closer.

Eventually, Nicole ceased to acknowledge me, and the visits from Jacob stopped. This wasn't much of a surprise, but suspicion got the better of me. Sometimes, I'd be up early to watch the sun rise when I'd see her break through the trees, looking beat up and swaying with exhaustion while she slipped inside, her clothes in shreds and her feet bare.

There was something strange about it, but Sam assured me that he had it all taken care of. It was hard to think that Sam, of all people, would have everything under control, especially after one incident in which Nicole and I were arguing and it ended with me hurling a rock at her face. Despite my lack of trust, I kept my suspicions to myself and hadn't spoken a word about the situation after that.

I raised my hand from the weeds and stared at the little dots of blood on my fingertips. I realized I was awfully close to the road; the weeds were always sharp there. My feet slowed. I started turning around to head back inside.

But in the middle of the turn, something unusual caught my eye. It was nothing really, just a dash of color in the background. Suspicion caused me to pause, just for a moment, needing to get a better look.

A car, painted an odd crimson color, was creeping along the dull, bumpy road. I stopped walking, my head still facing the weeds while my eyes studied the car. It was rare enough to have a car be this far into the reservation, much less going this slow. Maybe it was some delivery man coming out to drop off more wood for Sam.

I strained my eyes closer, waiting for the man to step out and ask for directions. It wasn't a big deal. I shrugged and kept going, saying nothing to him. It wasn't my business what he was up to, and frankly, I really didn't care. But when the car didn't speed up, I felt a sliver of suspicion. I had learned from the past that listening to my gut was not an option, but a necessity.

The car continued to pass, making its way past the broad driveway. When the car moved out of sight, I still didn't relax my gaze. The red color still lingered among the trees. I was smart to wait.

I could see the window as it slid down and I could hear the click of the opening door. A figure swung his head around and set into a brisk walk, heading toward me. He was no more than a splatter of black against the trees until he pulled his sleeve back, revealing a black object held in his gloved hand.

The man disappeared for a moment. He slipped into the cover of the trees, but I could hear more hushed noises when he moved through the forest. Leaves and branches cracked, the sounds of them growing louder and louder. Still, I didn't move. My breath puffed out in a muted laugh and a twisted smile spread across my face.

He took his time. I assumed he knew I was staring as he broke through the trees because he didn't bother to be quiet anymore. Each step was loud enough to be heard halfway across the country. He might as well have announced that he was coming as he broke through the trees. Of course, he didn't. The man stood there, his average build covered in black leather. Only his dark eyes were revealed, showing through two round holes in the middle of the hat stretched over his face and neck. I didn't really bother to study his form. Not because of the black suit, but because of the black handgun wrapped in his long fingers.

"You," the man barked. "You are Jordan Uley."

My eyes slanted slightly, fixed on the gun in the man's hand. I had all the right to stare; it's not like everyday some strange man approached me with a gun in his hand. This might be a once in a lifetime experience.

I plastered a smile on my face once more. I took the time to raise my head, meeting the dark brown stare of the man. He was just as tall as I was; I didn't even have to move back to look at him. I planted my feet, standing a few yards away from the man.

"You're a smart one, aren't you?" I looked him over as I spoke, sarcasm evident in my tone.

"No questions." The man raised the gun, aiming it toward my chest. "Did you, or did you not, take the life of Beth Anderson?"

I eyed the gun again, my fingers curling into my palm. Despite the heavy irritation, I forced my smile to widen, just for effect. "Oh, yes, I did. I beat that little snot bloody."

The man was silent. His finger curved around the trigger, slowly making an arc around it. His arm trembled as he did so, almost as if he wasn't sure what to do. I stared at him, my smile big and bright as I watched him. I could see myself smiling, too—my reflection was caught in the dark brown of the man's eyes. I was small, just a tiny dot of a picture. But when I stepped closer to him, ignoring the gun as it dug into my skin, my reflection swelled. I grew bigger and bigger, coming closer and closer.

His glazed gaze flicked around as it strained to focus on me, trying to sort out what was happening in reality and what wasn't. The shaking in his arm grew until I could feel the point of the gun twisting around in my skin. Dark blotches fanned out over his covered forehead, snaking down to the round holes where sweat dripped out. The man was panicking as I raised my foot, gently setting it back down as I closed the distance between us.

In an instant, the delirious expression on my face shattered. My hand shot forward and latched on the gun. I gave it a twist, freeing it from his shaking hand before he even realized what was happening. My fingers spun it around, closing around the gun and thrusting it forward, hammering the end of the gun into the man's forehead. The blow knocked him backward, sending him straight onto his behind.

I pointed the gun to his skull. The man was dazed—his eyes opened and closed rapidly. He raised his arms, shielding his face as if it would be enough to stop the power of the bullet.

"What kind of joke is this? Trying to lock me up, are you?"

"No," the man wheezed. "I'm not."

"Bull." I cocked the gun, smirking as the man flinched at the noise.

"I'm not a cop." He hesitated for a moment, sliding his hands down to his chest. He patted around, emphasizing the fact that he had no badge.

"Do you really think that I care who you work for?" I spoke the words slowly.

"Actually, I do. If you knew who I worked for, you might be more interested."

There was no real need for me to answer him. I watched his fingers draw something out of the folds of his black suit. My mind was starting to work faster. All it took was the flash of a silver syringe peeking out from his pocket for me to know what I had to do.

Both of us reacted at the same time.

Quick as a crack of lightning, the man swung his arm forward. The point of the needle missed my arm, but instead met my thigh, splitting through the skin like butter. I could feel the instant throb as the substance inside the syringe entered my bloodstream, working in pace with the thunder of my heart.

Acting on pure reflex, my finger constricted against the trigger of the gun. The bullet exploded, bursting out of the point in the blink of an eye. It sliced through the air, seeming to whistle with speed. It connected with the man's chest and disappeared, burying itself deep. Crimson bloomed across the man's suit, dripping like thick drops of rain onto the sand. The man's mouth slid open. He made a gurgle of some sort before his knees buckled and he crashed down lifelessly.

He didn't move again.

I leaned away from him, standing straight. A red wave of fury clouded my eyes, making my vision muddy. The tension rushed out of me, leaving me dizzy. I exhaled softly as the world went in fast-forward around me, shimmering like the sparkles of sunlight on water. Then, suddenly, I felt fire streak up my leg, an angry shot of pain. After that, the world closed down around me.


	15. Monster

[ **Warning** : This chapter contains many instances of violence that may be too intense for some readers.]

_"I feel it deep within,_  
 _It's just beneath the skin_  
 _I must confess that I_  
 _Feel like a monster_  
 _I hate what I've become_  
 _The nightmare's just begun_  
 _I must confess that I_  
 _Feel like a monster  
_ _I feel like a monster." -_  Skillet.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Monster

* * *

I had never experienced anything like I did in the early weeks of my fourteenth year. It was harsh. It was cruel. It was ugly. Above all things, it was the time that formed the monster in me. There were many hateful words I could use to describe that experience, but without it, I never would have learned what it meant to struggle. I never would have learned what free will was. I never would have discovered the magnitude of the monster inside me.

I wouldn't complain about the events of that time. I had been the Fruit Loop in the box of Cheerios for quite a while, but it never mattered. So what if I was a little loopy? There was no reason to complain about leaving a legacy, even if you were wacko when you did.

I could describe each bloody detail about what happened in that year without a pause or a flinch. Some shuddered at the gruesome stories I shared. Others couldn't stand to even listen to the tales from those times. When I thought back on that part of my life, I might have smiled at the hardcore trouble I was. It was almost amusing to think about. But even through all the blood and struggle, it was worth it, for that time had changed me in more ways than I could have ever imagined.

_May 11th, 2005._

Nothing. I felt absolutely nothing. I was just a weightless form, hovering in between existence and nothingness. I could feel my body being moved, lifted and placed onto a soft surface. When I tried to open my eyes, nothing happened. The blackness continued on forever—it was a never-ending land of nothing.

"Sam," I breathed. "Paul . . . where am I?" There was no response other than a dull ache in my lungs.

I was alone. The thought was comforting, yet chilling at the same time. Where were they? Where was  _I_? I knew I had to escape wherever I was, but I didn't even know how to move. There was nothing I could do, and I was so tired…

Maybe I had slept a bit. One moment I was tired, and the next I wasn't. I felt faded, slipping in between one wave of pressuring blackness to the next. The ocean of darkness still surrounded me, and I was still floating. In some places, I swear I saw colors: blurs of white and brown. All of them were smudged, though, and they were formless, meaningless.

"What?" I spoke to the colors, my voice a sharp wisp of wind. "What do you want?"

"Miss Uley," the colors responded. The sound of their voices was low and deep. "You're fine. Just close your eyes and sleep."

I could feel my head shake slightly, stubbornness rising up inside of me. "No."

One of the colors—I think it was the white—sighed. "She must have been given a heavy dose."

The brown laughed. "She needed it. Our hunter did well to inject her. What a pity, though, that she took his life. I don't think she realizes how truly disoriented she is."

"Only time will tell. The ones with mental issues usually are the hardest to treat."

"No." The brown's tone turned hard. "She won't be treated. She will be punished for what she has done. She's not even tamed. She's too far gone."

I thought the white and brown continued to talk to each other, but I couldn't tell. I was opening my mouth, trying to argue against them, but my throat was too dry. The white and brown swam together before my eyes, clashing, and were swallowed by the blackness.

Sleep captured me once more. It could have been for seconds, minutes, or even hours. But this time, when my eyes opened, it was only a reaction to movement. I was being rocked back and forth, my feet dangling a few inches off the ground.

Blackness had taken over my vision, leaving me nearly senseless. I could still feel the edge of my clothing brushing against my skin in motion with my body, but nothing else. There was the tap of footfalls and an occasional drip of water, but otherwise, nothing made sense. I stayed limp, letting the darkness hold me close, until finally, the tapping stopped, and I could hear the slow moan of spreading doors.

The first thing that returned was my sense of smell. The scent of my surroundings struck me hard. Naturally, I recoiled, my nose scrunching in distaste. The stench was utterly sour and raw, shooting through my nostrils in a fiery blast before erupting in my brain. My head pounded, my eyes brimming with wetness produced by the sharp stinging sensation. My stomach clenched and I gagged, my throat squeezing as I inhaled more of the acid-like stench of raw chemicals.

After a few more moments, my buzzing ears popped, restoring my hearing. It was hard to tell if I really could hear; the world seemed to have gone silent. My sense of taste had disappeared in the swell of my tongue while my sense of touch was diminished by the waves of chills freezing my body. I swayed in place, measuring my breath as I was set down in what I thought was a gooey liquid of some sort. I continued to breathe slowly, blinking rapidly at the smudges covering my vision until they too had disappeared. Another few moments passed as my eyes adjusted to the dim room. When the blackness had finally completely faded, I realized that I was in a cell.

It was not your typical jail cell. A jail cell was much more comfortable than this. The cell I was in was in fact a  _real_  cell—a place meant to actually confine someone. Rain leaked from the sodden ceiling made of dirt, the thriving darkness undisturbed by the firm dirt walls that blocked out the precious warm rays of sunlight. My vision wavered as I continued to sway, dizzied by the condition of the cell.

Bodies were closely packed together, dressed in the same bland gown that I was wearing. All of them were female. The black hair and droopy cooper skin of each individual made everyone look like siblings. Ribs protruded from below each thin gown. Shoulder blades popped out of backs. Postures were hunched over, and each pair of skinny arms was wrapped around a sunken belly. My stomach rolled again as my eyes took in the pool of ankle-deep muck. It was all a pond of human waste and rotting food; items dropped from the weak, trembling hands of one of the prisoners. The waste swirled around my own ankles, squishing into my toes and sloshing around my legs as I leaned forward, taking a short step.

Not a single person moved. All of them continued to quiver, their bodies cowering while the walls of this hellhole closed in on them. They kept their heads bowed and their arms tucked to their sides, not even acknowledging my presence. All of them completely ignored me, with the exception of a young woman who stepped through the huddle, tripping in the waste and landing on her elbows.

My first impression was that she was dying. This whole place reeked of death and sickness, but just one look at this woman made it clear that the end was near for her. Her russet skin was pale with a greenish tint, and her eyes seemed to have been forced into her skull, rimmed with bruises. The woman hacked and coughed with each shaky breath, her bones were prominent, and her rubbery skin hung loosely over them. Her hair was stringy, too; black as crude oil, shining with grease, and just as limp and lifeless as she was herself. She lay there with the waste around her, not blinking as she gazed blankly at the dirt above her head.

Despite her condition, she still angled her head to look at me, sensing my attention. Her eyes were dull and blank, the warmth in the chocolate brown hue sucked out. My brow furrowed slightly at the look in her eyes, but I had no other reaction. She stared at me, studying me, and I stared back.

After a long moment of silence, the woman smiled. Her mouth simply twitched, the white, chapped line of her lips so thin they might have shattered. She spoke slowly, her voice feather light, a scratchy rasp.

"Aren't you a little too young to be in here?"

I continued to stare, my eyes glued on her frail form. "Aren't you a little too sick to be in here?"

The woman's eyelids drooped shut. "I suppose you are young but not the youngest of us all. Yes, I am sick." The skinny veins in her neck popped out, her chest rising and falling as if talking was exhausting her. Still, the smile remained on her face. "I am much too sick. But I can't leave because the Makah tribe simply has no mercy."

"Makah." I repeated the name on my tongue, my brow furrowing even more at the foreign sound of it.

"Yes, girl. You are in the women's wing of a Makah jail. Have you not noticed all of us are Quileute?" She paused to wheeze. "They think our tribe is full of  _demons_." She paused to collect her breath, the smile showing up once more. "All because of our legends. They capture us when they can and put us in these death traps. The only way you get out is to fight."

Chills prickled up and down my spine as I listened. I kept my tone firm and my gaze steady. "I can fight."

"Good." The woman sighed, her body slumping when the breath escaped. "When they throw you in the ring, that's your only shot to stay alive. They'll put you against our own people that they have brainwashed—those who have won other fights and have been set into lone cells. They will be strong and trained to fight and kill you." She wheezed again. "Good luck."

I knew I was scowling now, but I couldn't help it. My tone turned defensive. "I don't need luck."

The woman was silent again, her breathing fainter. "You sure have some fire in you." Her left eye cracked open, followed by her right. "Maybe just enough to keep you alive. Maybe just enough to mean something. Maybe…" The words tumbled from her mouth as the woman hunched over, her chest still.

All I could do was stand there. I knew there was no reason to try and do something because there was nothing I  _could_ do. It was almost as if the whole world had stilled, time itself pausing to respect the woman.

Apparently the men—the Makah men—who worked this place didn't think much of respect. A few moments later, the doors swung open and two of them marched into the room. They held themselves stiffly, their expressions stern and emotionless. My eyes locked on the wide, open doors, instantly thinking of escape.

There were only two men and dozens more women in here. In a heartbeat, all of us could have slipped past the men and escaped while we had the chance. But none of them tried to. In the corner of my eye, I saw everyone scurry into a corner as the men came in. I knew I probably could escape if I set my mind to it, but I was frozen in place. Something was holding me back.

The Makah men ignored all of the sickly people. Each man swept an arm under the woman, lifting her. Her tiny body dangled from their grips as they carried her out. I couldn't help but notice her head bounce with every careless step. Her eyes were still open, too, clouded and lifeless. The men didn't even bother to look at her, though; they simple carried her through the door before shutting it with a crashing bang.

Darkness slid over the room, enveloping it. Silence followed. I wrapped my arms around myself, knowing if I found the group that the huddle would warm me up. But I didn't go. Instead, I stood alone, the last words of the woman playing in my head as I continuously remembered the clouded look in her vacant eyes.

()()()

If I was going to fight, I was going to have to be ready for it. The woman had warned me that we were here for that reason. If the fight was inevitable, or the only way to survive, then fight I would. Every morning after the shade of darkness lightened ever so slightly, I hiked to the shallow edge of the cell. It was there where I trained.

I threw punches against the wall until my knuckles ran bloody. I strained and stretched my muscles until they screamed, reaching maximum flexibility. Breathing exercises, slow and deep, taught me to breathe naturally in counts of eight. All of it was harmless, but my little audience watched with fear in their eyes.

They were just another cluster among hundreds, stationed at the edge of the huddle. Every time I threw a punch, they winced. When they saw me stretch, they cringed with each movement. Whenever I started my breathing exercises, all of them held their breath. Their dead eyes were glued on me like magnets. I didn't know what their problem was until I heard few of them whispering to one another.

"She killed someone," one of them rasped in a hushed tone. "That girl killed another. I heard the guards talking about her one day."

"She's a crazy one, is she?"

"Yes! Why else would she be here at this age? She can't possibly be past her teens."

They paused, falling silent for a moment. I continued to stare at the wall, counting my breaths as if I were oblivious to them. Inhale.  _1, 2, 3, 4._ Exhale.  _5, 6, 7, 8._

_"_ It's even worse that she's  _training_."

"Maybe she'll kill us."

"No, not maybe. She  _will_  kill one of us."

I was in haze, trapped in some fuzzy nowhere. But hearing those words did set some tiny ticker off inside of me. My patience with the women, talking about me like I was too stupid to understand, was quickly dying. I focused harder on my breathing.

If it weren't for the loud groan of the cell doors opening, I probably would have hurt one of them.

Twice a day, the doors parted and two guards stepped in. They came to call out a name, and then dragged the woman out to fight. At least, I assumed so. But once a woman left, she never returned. That was how it always was until one day, it all changed.

The doors parted for a third time. The two guards marched in, carrying a battered body between their shoulders. The women shuffled nervously, weak heads raising slightly, dull eyes flicking around nervously. The body was tossed carelessly on the floor as the guards turned, closing the doors with a mighty yank.

In just an instant, the silence shattered. Voices rose and the women shuffled over towards the door, the mucky waste slurping at their feet. The curiosity had even taken me over. I found myself trudging through the waste toward the body.

I ducked under elbows and shoulders, slipping through the tightly packed bodies until I was at the front of the huddle in full view. The body was of a woman, who had the same copper skin and dark hair as the rest of us. Her eyes were closed, her jaw unnaturally swollen. Blood was caked on her face and seeping into her hairline. The woman's breaths were shallow; she appeared to be too weak to lift herself out of the waste.

"Mary! Mary, Mary!" an alarmed voice that sounded closer to a squeak rose above the other voices. A frail, aged woman pushed through the crowd. She knelt before the battered woman and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right, Mary?"

The chatter broke down as the woman frantically shook Mary's body, her eyes bulged in shock. Mary didn't answer.

"Mary! Mary, listen to me! You can't die like this, Mary! Hang on, you're gonna make it! Come on, come on!"

Mary smiled, her lips pulling back over broken teeth. The woman sobbed at the sight, her whole body trembling. "Oh, Mary."

"O-Ou-Ouch," Mary rasped miserably.

The woman jerked back suddenly. "Mary? What'd I do?"

Mary squeezed her eyes tight, and her words stammered. "H-head. Hurts."

The woman started to speak but never got the words through her lips. Mary rolled to the side suddenly, her body twisting into an awkward angle. Her mouth popped open and her gums pressed together until they turned white. Mary suddenly started to twist and convulse in a violent manner, her breathing completely stopping.

I wasn't a super genius, but I knew that Mary wasn't going to last. The fight had probably resulted in damage her skull; the guards were heartless bastards for bringing her back here. The screeches and screams of the people were drowned out as I zoned out of focus, allowing everyone else to fade into a hum in the background as I shoved my way back into my corner.

Nothing else mattered anymore. The only thing that meant something was the breath in my lungs and the beat in my heart, growing louder and stronger every day. I was determined to survive, unlike Mary. I was determined to fight. I was determined to use my own fire to survive. And  _nothing_  would stop me.

()()()

Days of training passed, time becoming nothing more than short periods of light and outstretching darkness. Everything but my purpose faded away. Time meant nothing. The women being dragged out to fight, screaming as they were torn out of the arms of their beloved, were no longer people, but motivation. Even I was nothing; nothing but a fire fueled by a strong loyalty to my tribe.

Until they pulled me out to fight.

By the time the guards pulled me out and directed me into the fighting arena, I was gone. There was no Jordan Uley; she had seeped away like the moisture of the sodden ground above my head. The only thing left of her was a blank and twisted shell of what she used to be.

The guards trampled through the doors on one of those darker mornings, shoving dusty, cracked bowls of vomit-like slop into hand after bony hand. It would have made any outsider gag if they saw the way the women's eyes lit up at the sight. They slurped down mouthfuls, sighing as if the slop was the only good thing left in their lives. The even sadder thing was that it probably  _was_  one of the few highlights left. But I had more to work for than a bowl of crap. Actually, I was nearly positive that I would puke my guts out if I even took one mouthful of the stuff.

Each day when a guard thrust the bowl into my hands, I refused to eat it. Of course, I would take it just for show, but then I would pass the bowl off to some other sickly, ratty woman. The tattered remains of her own gown would tremble with her anxious shivers and she would frantically gulp all of the slop down in seconds. I would offer a tiny smile when she thanked me before searching for a shallow path through the waste to train for the unavoidable.

Eventually, the guards proved that they had brains, however little of it, and realized that I was going to continue passing the slop on and would not eat it. On that special morning, the doors clanged open and one of them, dressed fancily in knee high boots and a gas mask, pushed his way through the huddles calling out my name.

"Uley! Uley! I need a Uley!" he shouted, his accent heavy.

To my amusement, the guard spent a long while searching through the muck, slurring curses each time he failed to find me in a cluster of women. But eventually, he found me standing alone in the corner of the cell. He gave a shuddering sigh, bending over with his hands cupped on his knees, his breath coming in pants. I stared blankly at him until he raised his head and snatched me up, hoisting my thin body over his shoulder. He marched back through the gathered women, still grumbling.

I glowered blankly at the moaning walls as the man carried me through the cell. The air was pumping in and out of my lungs and whistling out my ears. I shuddered violently at the chill. Was it really this cold outside, or was it just the adrenaline zooming through my body at an impossible pace?

The man only took a few minutes. The footsteps softened. Moments later, he halted completely, yanking open a smaller door. The man ducked through it, not minding at all when my head nearly bashed into the top of the frame. I snapped my eyes shut against the sudden flash of bright sun. I slammed into the ground hard, tumbling and rolling head over heels. I tumbled for only a few seconds, but it could have been forever; time dragged by slowly. My eyes opened, staring down at the dust caking my skin.

Raising my head, I coughed out a nice sized cloud of dust before steadying myself, rocking from side to side on my feet. The brightness wasn't from the sun. In fact, the sky was its usual dark grey hue, the clouds a barrier as they selfishly soaked in all of the sun's warmth for themselves. No, there was no sunlight. The only light in the area was produced from a rounded spotlight pointed directly at me, straight into my eyes.

My eyes darted down, scanning beneath the rays of light to study my surroundings. I was in a wide, open mud-pen. The ground was torn and cracked, dried with soil the color of the waste in the cell. There were no sharp objects, no weapons—not even small rocks. This "ring" that the woman had described was just an empty field, open for nothing more than for physical combat. As I started to adjust to the lighting, I also noticed that the fighting field wasn't even guarded. No armed guards or towering walls. Just a simple, high wooden fence wrapping around the dusty ground in a wide circle.

I knew better than to believe that it was possible to escape this. My eyes focused onto the wall, picking out the details, until my eyes caught the nearly invisible quivering line that wrapped around the wall. I squinted, tilting my head as I took in the hum of the electric buzz. It was wire. Electric wire meant to trap in fully-grown humans inside. A brick wall wasn't necessary when you had a wire with the nasty sting of a high voltage shock.

Caught up in the interest of the wire, I was completely mesmerized until the door across the fighting ring swung open and shut again. The boom of it closing pulled me back to the present. My head snapped up as a young woman—or girl, I should say, because she didn't appear to be a day over seventeen—slowly strolled toward me. Her chin was raised, a smirk on her face, and a strut was put in her step. Her hair was black and braided back, her copper skin lighter than a usual Quileutes. The girl grinned, a sadistic look lurking in the depths of her dark eyes.

"Hello," the girl greeted me with a cackle.

I ignored the greeting, dropping my foot back, angling my body to face her. She flashed a dirty smile as she stepped closer, her pallid face showing distinct signs of sickness. My jaw set and my eyes narrowed when she continued to approach.

"You're a mute one?" The girl planted her feet firmly in front of me, her eyes evaluating me. My expression was frozen, and I thought my body might have been, too, but it leaned forward naturally, shifting into a defensive stance.

"Well, that's okay. My group always said they put the strong ones out against weaker ones to get it all over with, so I'm going to have to bust your guts out anyway."

The girl launched herself at me without a second of hesitation, her fingers stretched out for my throat. I weaved around her arm and spun behind her. Dust spewed up from our movements. The girl puffed and coughed a little but turned and charged again, only to get the same result.

'Fight' was the wrong word to describe this. It was more like a dance. She punched, kicked, thrashed, and shouted in a frustrated manner, kicking up dust from the ground. I was amused at the whole thing, going along with it. Until she hit me.

The girl was glaring at me, pulling her arm back before snapping it forward. My feet dragged along the dry surface, slowing me down. The girl's fist connected with my cheek in a crack and a burst of sudden pain. She cackled, a high-pitched squeal of laughter, and stepped away from me.

I lost it.

My body crashed into hers, sending us both to the ground. I landed with my knee in her gut, digging in deep. I shoved my knee up toward her ribcage, my ringing ears not hearing the cracks. She swung her hands wildly at me, but I caught her wrists and gave them a slow, agonizing twist, forcing them back down against the ground. The girl's back arched and she let out a pained cry, but I didn't pay any mind. I was defending myself; I was driven in the need to survive. I held her against the gritty ground, my mind whirling. Somehow, through the ringing in my ears, I heard the buzz of the wire.

A smirk appeared on my twisted expression. I jerked the weakly thrashing body around and slammed it against the wooden wall. I hopped to my feet, lifting her head up before flipping her over, pressing the revealed skin of the girl's throat into the wire. She screamed, making a beautiful, agonized screech.

The sound trailed off as the life was zapped out of her.

The guards were in the ring a moment later, walking briskly over to me. Their hands clasped on my shoulders and pried me away from the body while their arms locked under my own. I twisted my shoulders, grinding my teeth and shouting out slurs of curses, but they ignored me. I was dragged back into the cell once again, staring at the limp body while I burned with suppressed fury.

()()()

Killing had become natural—an instinct, a talent, even a duty. Days muddled together; the common sense in me had disappeared further. I hadn't been able to remember anything; fighting was life. Even crowds of Makahs had started to come and stand outside the ring to witness my brutal victories. Fight after fight after fight…

_She spits. Spits right in my face. The glob of saliva plops onto my cheek, running down before it dribbles onto the dusty ground beneath my feet. The woman laughs obnoxiously, showing brown, chipped teeth._

_"I really_ just  _have to squash this little squirt? Can't I have a better match?" The woman is groaning, smirking as she sizes me up._

_I stare at her, clenching and unclenching my fists, fingers slipping on the sweaty surface of my palm. Heat boils inside me, escaping in little droplets of salty perspiration. The woman's laughter echoes through my mind, pounding in my head, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of my control. Finally, I can't take it anymore._

_I snarl at her. Not a spit, not a sharp blurt of words. It's a feral snarl, teeth exposed._

_The woman's eyes flare. She bellows, shouting out something else, but I don't hear it as she charges toward me. I swear I can see the world quaking as she approaches, her hand reaching out toward me. . ._

_A duck, a twist, and one massive shove later, my opponent comes crashing down. My nails sink into the skin of her throat, nose wrinkled in response to the sour scent of her final breath. I fade away from all meaning as I tear until the struggle is over._

_Behind me, the crowd of Makah residents go wild as they cheer my fifth victory._

My eyes started to burn, the sensation bringing me back to the present. I walked slowly toward the gate, heading back toward the cell at an ambling pace. Sharp wisps of cold air raked down my throat, bile rising against it. I scowled down at someone else's hot, sticky blood that stained my skin. While I studied the crust of dried blood under my nails, I started to question the reasoning behind my actions. Why were we fighting each other? If I was really fighting to survive and help my tribe, why was I killing the crazed ones?

I never got the chance to answer.

"Go on, kid," a guard snarled.

He thrust the end of his gun into my back, shoving me into the door. Acting on instinct, I raised a hand and started to turn, ready to smack the gun right out of his hand. But then I saw the blood on my hand again and I found my fingers curling back into my fist, my hand dropping. I exhaled slowly and ducked under the metal door before me, disappearing inside the blackness.

()()()

_I pace. My thoughts have slipped away, leaving me blank. I can see through the dark curtains around me, but the world has drowned in the depths of blackness. I continue to pace, my own heart frozen, the blood of many others crusted underneath my fingernails._

_Eyes are tracing my movements, evaluating me carefully. With every step, I can feel the air shiver with another woman's wince. I soak in their fear, feeling an ecstatic charge rush through me at the knowledge of their fragility. My feet gently squish into the rising waste as I pad through the cell._

_Normally I didn't have to worry about anybody touching me. As I made my way through the cell, people whisper frantically and shuffle out of my way. But today, one broad woman, feeling rather bold, sees me. She stares at the tangle of my hair, the dirt masking my face, and the blood in my nails with a horrified expression, her mouth gaping in shock. She stumbles as I approach and slams into me, two hundred pounds of squeaking, terrified surprise._

_The instinct to defend swells inside me the second she makes impact. My nostrils flare, my eyes widen, my jaw sets. My rough palms meet her body in a brutal shove. The attack continues as her squeaking voice rises into shrieks. I come at her, swinging, as she tries desperately to retreat. With every hit, her eyes droop further and fade away. I advance on her until two arms slip under my own and drag me away, leaving the frozen, distorted screaming face behind as it sinks into the pool of waste._

They threw me in a lone cell.

I sat alone in a dirty little stall-like thing, my knees almost comfortably drawn to my chest. Despite the everlasting supply of fresh air offered by the wide bars, I couldn't clear my head. Mud slopped and dried on my skin, and the churning winds of the incoming storm howled in the background. I was completely alone, and I liked it that way.

A soft sigh slipped from my lips. I leaned my head back against the wall, my eyes fluttering and blurring slightly while they adjusted to the white light of the lamps outside. Two guards were carrying bodies out from fights. They marched through the light of the lamp, and then disappeared into the shadows, returning empty handed. I watched the same pattern happen in boring repetition until the face of one caught my eye.

Through the tiny crystals of the spitting rain, I saw her. I could have recognized her anywhere. The pitch black tangles of hair, the scrawny limbs, and the unmistakable innocent in those plump lips and chocolate eyes. Yes, I did recognize that girl. The ghost of her memory whispered in my ears.

_"This is my life, because Z is my big brother. He's a good brother; he takes care of me. This is my life, but you don't fit in, just like pretty roses don't go with dead roses. I think you need to go. Good luck."_

A twisted smile lifted on my face. I raised a hand toward the little girl from the gangs, a gesture of greeting. The movement distracted the bulky guard carrying her and caused him to turn my way. I couldn't tell if the guard was curious or suspicious, though, because my stare was frozen on her.

When the man turned, she crumpled. She sort of fell—not in a form of surprise or loss of balance, but in a limp, helpless way. She tumbled back through the air. The guard's arms stopped her from hitting the ground, but they didn't stop her head from rolling back. They didn't stop me from seeing the girl's face.

Her innocent beauty been punched out of her. Her swollen face was covered in blotches of black and blue. Cuts, bruises, blood, the whole deal. I stared, locked in place at the sight of her. Nothing stood out more than the clouded glaze that covered her dark eyes.

The guard seemed to have lost interest in the distraction. He shook his head and mumbled something strange to himself. He continued to saunter through the light.

I choked back the bile in my throat. My smile dropped with the whoosh of my exiting breath as I smacked back against the wall. Sweat coated my back, trickling down off the tips of my fingers. This had to have been my fault. How did I not notice the girl here? I remembered the words of the first woman I saw here:  _"I suppose you are young, but not the youngest of us all."_

This whole thing just might have been my fault.

The sweat slithered down my legs, covering my body in a heavy layer. My head was spinning. My breathing stuttered. The air around me was suddenly much too hot, like flames of impossible heat had been injected straight into the atmosphere. Colors flashed before my eyes, scrolling through my mind, pulsing and in fast-forward. Lightning cracked, a white blaze in the ink-black sky, bringing another shudder through my body.

My heart hammered against my ribs with the power to break right through. The walls of the sticky, muggy cells leaned in toward me, swaying and multiplying before my eyes. The air grew even thicker with the heat, squeezing my throat and packing into my lungs. My nails gritted into the wall as my knees started to knock together with the tremors crashing through me. I was tearing apart, inside and out. My skin was peeling away, the fury and hurt inside me bleeding out. I probably would have fallen to bits right then and there if it weren't for the interruption.

"Jordan."

The voice was nothing the first time it met my ears—just a slur of sound, strangled as if it had come through murky water. My shoulders jerked roughly, jamming against my head. Searing pain shot through my bones. My head rolled back into the wall and my eyes stared blankly straight ahead.

"Jordan," the voice whispered. "Stop."

As if I could have stopped. My control had slipped through my grasp. Somehow, I had the strength to force myself to pull in another breath. Fire smoldered in my veins, eating away at the final scraps of what was left of  _me_.

"Honey, listen to me." The voice was demanding now, a hard edge slicing through the sweet tone. "You can't do this right now. Just take a nice, deep breath. There you go . . . easy now."

In an instant, an insane rush of air charged into my lungs. Reality pieced together in a swift clap, right before my eyes. I blinked once, the fuzzy outline of the cell sluggishly refocusing. I peeled my sweaty hands from the wall, rubbing my throbbing face with them. Once I removed them, the clarity of the cell came into perfect focus.

The whole dreary cell was now ignited with a soft, silver light, burning into the midnight air above my head. I smiled a little at the sight of it, blinking in curiosity as the light started to form a figure. I peered closer, my brow furrowing in confusion. The silver light approached me, growing brighter and brighter until it stopped, the figure fully formed, and I could clearly see the silver shape of my mother before me.

"Sweetheart," she whispered in greeting. A very familiar, tender smile played on her lips.

My tongue seemed swollen, blocking out my words. I carefully studied the flawless face of my mother, having to tilt my head down to look at her because of the height difference. Her black hair was down, not even bothered by the wind, and she looked so innocent. So real. I extended a hand to her to touch her shoulder, but my hand slid through the thin, empty air.

I let out a heavy, disoriented breath as I stared into her light eyes. "You're not real," I told her firmly.

My mother simply smiled, her illuminated teeth showing as if she was laughing silently to herself. She didn't respond to my question, but instead continued to speak in her gentle murmur.

"You're losing yourself, Jordan. You can't keep fighting like you are. Right now, you are fighting for the Makah tribe. Just look at yourself, sweetheart."

Her words tugged at my heart, twisting it as if trying to squeeze something out. My fingers found the dents in the wall again, my bloody nails snuggling into them. "I'm protecting myself. Isn't that what I have to do? Keep myself safe? Isn't that how I'll learn how to help the tribe?"

Again, my mother didn't answer my question. Her silver form flickered as if the shadows were starting to drag her in too. Her icy gaze met mine. "Just why are you fighting them, honey?"

The question struck me hard. I, too, had asked myself that very same question, but I still hadn't found an answer. Was it really teaching me something to kill another? Or was I really losing myself, letting them get inside me, letting them control me?

I focused harder on the question. My mind scattered, unable to process all the thoughts at once. By the time I had registered my mother's long silence and looked up, the silver light had vanished into thin air. In the beams of moonlight, I swore I could still see a tiny ball of silver flickering on the ground.

I knew what had to be done.

When the guards came by in the morning, I was already waiting for them. My fingers were curling into my palms, the knuckles on each hand stained with black and blue bruising.

I stood in the middle of the fighting ring, my eyes trained on the door when it opened, revealing a thin, trembling child. Her wide chocolate eyes darted around, her arms hugging her body while she dragged her feet through the dirt. She studied the crowd and her eyes widened further, her head snapping from side to side frantically until finally, she saw me.

Those chocolate brown eyes popped out of her head. She opened her mouth as if to scream, but by the time she turned around, the doors had slammed shut, locking her into the ring with me. The bell clanged. Silence fell over us.

My feet moved swiftly as I circled the trembling girl. She was at least smart enough to step with me—I never saw her back. I pressed in closer with every circle, moving around her until I could feel the steam of her breath on my skin.

I could feel the anxiety of the crowd in the probing stares that rested on me. I raised my foot and stepped down lightly in front of the girl, standing before her. She tilted her head back slowly and gave a horrified squeak. The movement caused her hair to tumble back and she tripped, crashing into the dusty ground. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lip poking out as she shook. Tears fell.

The crowd started to murmur, the ground shifting, dust swirling as they all shuffled around to get a better view. I raised my hand slowly, my breathing even as I stared down at the girl. One of her eyes cracked open for a second, and then squeezed shut again. She trembled while she waited for me to deliver the blow.

Only, I didn't. Instead, I turned my back and paced away from her. I headed back toward the door, my gaze set on the guard there. I wouldn't fight this fight. I wouldn't kill this girl. No matter what the crowd thought, I wouldn't.

A hush spread out through the crowd. Feet shuffled and eyes bore into the back of my neck. They stayed silent until one man's voice boomed over the others.

I couldn't understand his words. He spoke quickly in the Makah language, waving his arms around. He didn't look very happy.

Murmurs broke out through the crowd. Others were yelling too, but their words were lost in the slur of sudden motion. I continued to stare back at them.

The words flowed in an angry rush out of my mouth, my voice scratchy from lack of use, but still loud and clear. "I won't fight this damn fight. There's no reason to do this shit anymore."

The crowd fell silent. Each angry gaze fell on me, expecting. Waiting.

I gave them nothing.

My hands trembled with fury while it burst and swirled inside of me. I stared back at the crowd until very gradually, they started to speak. At first a murmur, then a shout, raging and angry. Their words built higher and higher until suddenly, all of them were roaring and lunging at the door.

The outburst of the Makah people was electrifying; satisfying the heat inside. My gaze met the intense expression on every face, and suddenly, I felt so powerful. I felt alive, almost as if my body were buzzing with electricity. I was flying, soaring with pride. I was so high up, I felt unstoppable. I  _was_  unstoppable. Nothing could ever pull me back down.

While I was caught in the sudden feeling, my senses didn't pick up on the guard as he shoved through the crowd. I only noticed him as he raised his gun to his shoulder. There was an abrupt boom and the little, cheery girl beside me collapsed. My grin dropped and my knees followed. I wasn't fast enough, though, and it was the second crack of the man's gun that brought me down.

 


	16. Explode

[ **Warning** : This chapter contains dark themes of attempted torture and cruelty that some readers may not be comfortable with. If you think you won't be able to handle that, you can skip to "paragraph" eighty (counting clauses and dialogue) to avoid reading any of that content.]

 _"Would you call me a saint or a sinner?_   _Would you love me a loser or winner?"_  - The Script.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

Explode

_May 23rd, 2005._

* * *

Black.

Black was the only way to describe my world. It was empty, other than the crushing weight of the darkness. Blackness was the only thing in existence. I floated around somewhere beneath it. No matter how hard I tried to push against it, the blackness remained. Still, I didn't give up. I couldn't feel any of my muscles, but somehow, I worked them. Pushing, pushing, pushing.

It took a while, but eventually, there was a flood of light, and the blackness disappeared. My eyes adjusted to the blinding burst of brightness after a moment. I inhaled deeply, feeling my chest rise as my body filled with air. I gagged at the dusty taste of the air around me.

Hospital. That was my first impression of the room. So blank and white, cold and stale. It had to be a hospital. Tubes were slipped under the skin of my left arm, and thin liquid was pumping through them. Instantly, I was suspicious of the place. My free hand swiftly yanked the tube out of my arm. It made a clanging noise while it hit the railing of my bed.

I propped myself up on my elbow, assessing myself. I was dressed in a light blue hospital gown. My skin was a little pink where I'd ripped out the tube, and my hair lay limply on my shoulders. The sudden movement had brought a dull ache in my stiff neck, but otherwise, I seemed completely normal. There was nothing strange about the place. It looked like a normal patient space in a hospital, complete with a cream curtain draped at the front for privacy. I almost allowed myself to relax until memories of the fighting ring, the cell, and the crack of the gun came flooding back. My heart raced, setting off a machine next to my bed.

The sound must have caught some attention, because a moment later, a man with a cheesy smile pushed the curtain aside and slipped into my room. He strolled over to the machine and pressed a tiny button, hushing the annoying thing. The man's smile was still plastered on his face when he stopped to scribble something on a clipboard. He tapped the pen shut, slid it into his front pocket, and finally looked at me.

His eyes caught me by surprise. They were so dark, they were almost all pupil. They were not only black, but black and glazed over. For a second, I almost thought that he was a robot of some sort, until he spoke.

"Good morning, ma'am," the man greeted me in an unnecessarily cheerful tone. "I am Doctor Jensen, here to assist you. Did you have a nice sleep?"

My eyes slanted down to slits, a clear sign of my suspicion. "Why am I here?"

Doctor Jensen chuckled softly. Irritation flared in the pit of my stomach, but I pushed it back, forcing myself to keep my cool. I was having a hard time not getting up and pounding in that crooked nose of his.

"Miss Uley, there is nothing for you to worry about. You have been brought here for help. You're fine, the bullet  _just_  missed your brain." Doctor Jensen laughed again, his voice crackling. I instantly didn't like the guy.

"That's why I had to be dragged to a women's jail and  _shot_  for speaking? Freedom of speech is still around, you know. That's not even legal. You'd better give me answers, buddy. I don't know what you're joking about, but nobody else is laughing."

Doctor Jensen sighed, but he kept the smile bright and fake. "I see you will be a handful." He paused, his pen racing across his clipboard. While he wrote, his eyes stayed set on me, glassy but focused. "Come with me. You'll have answers soon."

The curtains blew when the doctor pushed them out of the way. He held them clenched in one hand, clearly waiting for me. I remained still for a moment, my suspicions screaming at me not to follow him. But once I thought about it, I knew there was no other choice. I'd probably be drugged again if I sat there, and I wouldn't know if I didn't try to find out myself. I slid off the bed and walked numbly to the doctor, allowing him to place a hand on my neck and lead me down the hall. I was tense, but I behaved to keep myself out of trouble.

As I was ushered down the hall, I carefully glanced around. There was something strange about all of the assistants in their flowing lab coats. One was stationed at every door, standing and smiling a little too widely at nothing as they awaited something to do. I was starting to think this was more of a circus than a hospital. Unless Sam sentenced me to a place of crazies again.

"You'll be okay," the man comforted, placing a hand on my shoulder. "This place is only for counseling. Have you ever been counseled?"

I jerked away from the hand, not caring if it was rude. The man continued to smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. His stare was glued on me, and I considered ignoring him. But if I wasn't going to cooperate, I knew that these freaks would be even less likely to let me out of this creepy place. I spoke, but kept my answers short and sweet.

"Yes," I muttered bitterly, focusing on the seemingly endless hall. The lights were dimming as we traveled further away from my hospital room.

"Ah, well then, this will be just like that! The methods used here are carefully studied. They've never failed, not once."

I nodded, trying to ignore the darkness of the room. Me plus counseling equals chaos, but it would have been better if the cheerful freak didn't know that. The man continued to usher me down the hall, humming as he stopped, a hand reaching out into darkness. A moment later, I watched while a curtain was moved to reveal a small, cozy room.

The man stepped back, gesturing for me to walk inside. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable. The doctor will be here to see you shortly."

I took a minute before slipping inside the curtains. They fell shut behind me. After the patter of feet faded, I was alone.

I clucked my tongue, my eyes roaming the room: it was plain and empty. An empty bed lay in the center, white as white gets. The floor was white too, speckled with dark grey. The only color in the room seemed to be the peach hue of the curtains, most likely in place to separate the different rooms.

Exhaustion fogged my mind. I'd only just started to realize how tired I was. I paused for a moment, straining to hear the sound of an incoming person. There was only silence.

Listening closer, I realized that it wasn't completely quiet. A hum, like that of a murmuring voice, seemed to be flowing from the corner. I carefully stepped over, hovering over the curtain to get a better idea of what the sound was. It was deep and throaty, very masculine.

Curiosity was stronger than my exhaustion. I was still too tired to think things through, and without thinking at all, I placed my hand on the curtain. Taking a deep breath, I carefully pulled the curtains apart to get a better view of the humming man.

He was dressed in doctor's clothes, his bald head and face shining brightly. Moving around the room with a soft hum escaping his lips, he appeared to be casually searching for something. I watched in confusion until he turned, revealing the object in his arms.

He cradled a baby. Its tender skin was a light shade of pink, eyes bright and dark. Its mouth was open while it made high-pitched baby noises, its chubby hands waving up at the man. The man laughed and murmured something I couldn't really hear, causing the baby to giggle and kick its little feet in response.

I'd never been a baby person, but this little one struck me. It was radiating happiness, bringing brightness to the blank place. Not only that, but it brought a strange, twisted smile to my face.

The man didn't seem to notice my presence. He gently set the bundle on a plain white sheet over the bed. "That's it, you stay right here!" The baby giggled and watched the man with a toothless grin.

"We're gonna make it all better for you! No need to cry all night at all!" Clanging noises boomed in the room. Feet shuffled, hands searched. After a couple minutes, the man turned, holding a clear tube connected to some strangely shaped machine in his hand.

Confusion flooded me while I continued to watch, still safely hidden behind the thin sheet dividing the room. The baby needed tubes stuck in its fragile skin, just because it cried at night? I started to question the reason I was there, in a place where babies were given drugs for something so natural. Unless I was here to be given anti-depressants or to be punished, I didn't think any of these things were necessary for that.

"Wook! WOOK!" The baby bubbled with laughter when the man snapped a thick mask over his face, not paying attention to the squealing child. "WOOK!" Being ignored only caused the baby to make more noise. That got the man's attention, and the baby grinned while it pointed at the mask, and then the tube, its eyes shining with wonder.

Chuckling in amusement, the man turned and placed a strong hand on the baby's revealed tummy. He rubbed it soothingly before tickling under its chin. "Oh buddy," the man whispered, "you'll be okay! Everything will be pretty and easy now!"

The baby clapped his hands together.

"Yes, very pretty!" Giving a chuckle, the man raised his hand from the round stomach, moving things around. Everything was blocked by the struggling baby, so I couldn't see. Suddenly I was washed with unease.

What the man did next caused my stomach to drop to the ground.

He forced the tube down the baby's throat. The baby squeaked and whimpered, his eyes scrunching. Little arms flailed in protest. Still, the man cooed, reaching back to tap his fist over a button somewhere behind him. A lump grew in my throat as I watched a sickly yellow and brown liquid roll through the tube, disappearing into the little mouth of the baby.

Seconds dragged by as the baby thrashed. He gave one final whimper that rose over the man's coos. Seconds passed, and then the waving of its arms slowed before they dropped limp on the table.

Dead.

Anger swelled inside me. The man hummed and closed the eyes of the baby. He yanked the tube out and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder and into the trash without even turning to look. It was as if he'd gone through this same procedure thousands of times before. In a swift movement, his hand latched on a handle to the cabinet. With a small pull, the door parted to reveal a round, black hole. The man wrapped the blanket over the baby's still face, pushed the body in, and then did something that brought a acidic bile to my throat.

"Bye, baby!" The man's voice echoed down the now empty hole before he turned and casually strolled out of the room, his eyes glazed over and smiling as if he wasn't a murderer.

It took everything I had not to charge after the man and beat him bloody.

How the hell could anybody be so cruel? That man just killed a helpless baby because it  _cried_? Flames spread through my body. I flinched. The heat had been a part of my random anger flashes lately, but I couldn't seem to get used to it.

The flames continued to grow as my anger increased. I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying hard to calm down. I was trying to think of a plan to get out of here, but I couldn't. My thoughts were so jumbled, I couldn't think straight. Until I heard the voice behind me and I froze completely.

"We have the best systems around for counseling," he mocked in a rasp. "Especially for murderous individuals."

The voice was closer to a hiss than an actual voice. The slow, deep tone was almost lazy. Shivers went down my spine. I jerked my head over my shoulder and met the small, serpent-like eyes of the man who spoke.

He was middle aged, with Quileute skin and hair, wearing a dusty black suit. He had hands that folded in his lap, weathered and wrinkled from many days of outdoor labor. His eyebrows were bushy, and he had a face dotted with red blotches. Nothing was special about him, except the "Anderson" name tag clipped to his shirt. I continued to stare.

"Miss Uley," he wheezed. "We meet at last."

"Why am I here?" I demanded. I leaned forward into a defensive stance, feeling the curtains sway and brush against my skin.

Mr. Anderson made a sound somewhere between a bark and a cough; a sort of strangled laugh. His lips stretched like plastic into a hideous smile. "Such a pity that you're a vile creature with a small brain. No wonder the bullet missed." He paused to catch his breath, raising a hand to the indent that was his chest. "You won't be able to escape your fate here."

I could almost feel my temper start to tick underneath my skin as my heartbeat drummed in my ears. "Pity? It's a pity that an old man doesn't have the balls to stand up to a girl. Enough with the games. You're disgusting, inside and out, apparently." I let a sickly sweet smile play on my lips.

That one felt good to get out. But I knew I would be paying for it as the man's dark, sunken eyes started to smolder. "You killed my daughter, Miss Uley. You betrayed the tribe."

"Yeah, I killed somebody. Shit happens." I found myself grinding my teeth together to avoid yelling. I had to lock my muscles together to keep from smacking some sense into the man. "My bad. But locking me up in a Makah jail, our worst  _enemy_ , and then planning to keep me here? Excuse me, sir, but that doesn't exactly ring loyal to me."

The man jerked his head around as if in denial. He waved a hand. "I've seen that you are a little rebel. You were a problem ever since you escaped my mental facility on the reservation."

I paused for a moment. All of this crap was connected to him? "Your mental facility?"

His head jerked again. "Yes, yes. Then you were on the loose, but I couldn't catch you." He pulled his hand down into his pocket, swirling it around before tossing a piece of paper at me. I watched the grey, shriveled paper float towards the ground. I stared at the little 'J' scratched into the surface and swallowed.

" _Always_ a little rebel. Well,  _sweetheart_ , I must say there is at least a wisp of a sense somewhere in that disturbed mind, since you've been capable of evading me for so long. But now I've finally got you." He smiled in a dangerous way, his eyes brightening. "Time to pay the consequences."

The words went in one ear and out the other. His threat was weightless. The anger bubbled inside of me. My eyes were a dark blue fire and my fist was raised. "If  _anybody_ tries to put a tube anywhere near me, I'll rip their throat clean out."

"Oh, will you now?"

"Go ahead. Try me."

Mr. Anderson leaned back in his chair, his lips white from smiling so much. "You deserve much worse. I suppose you could say I have mercy, but also a need for justice. Goodbye, Miss Uley." His dropped his hand to a band on his wrist, pressing one pointed nail on a little button.

"No!" I hurled myself at him, fist raised and ready to pound his face flat.  _Fight, fight, fight_. My mind was telling me to fight. To go against this.

I didn't even get the chance. The curtains blew open as two men in suits rushed in, hooking their arms around mine. One placed a hand on my throat, snapping my head back with a crack. His fingers pressed into my throat, blocking my airways. I thrashed and kicked, but the other man grabbed my legs and twisted them painfully, stilling me.

I stared above me, eyes popping wide as I choked and squirmed. Lights flashed by as I was hurried back. I could hear a beep and click as a door was opened, and then my feet were planted on the ground. One man twisted my arms behind my head while the other stripped off my hospital gown.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, spitting out the words. I glared at the masked man in front of me, seething.

His head lifted to the level of my face. "Taking care of you."

With that, I was shoved into another room. I whipped around, lunging at the door, only to hit glass and fall back against a cool wall. I looked around, confused, until I realized I was standing in a shower. Strange, how they interpreted counseling.

I took a deep breath, running my fingers through my hair and closing my eyes for a moment. The anger was still stirring, making me too hot. So hot, nearly on fire.

"What are you  _doing to me_?" I shouted. I turned, pounding my fists on the door. "WHAT'S GOING ON?"

The only reply as a beeping noise. A pearly while tile on the wall slid open, and a black wave poured out. I could hear the legs skittering over the tile, feel as the tiny legs inched up my body. I jumped back, staring at the little spiders.

I realized that this was my punishment. My punishment was to be bathed in spiders. If I were to fight and look strong, they would make it worse. But if I acted as if it was working. . .

My mouth closed and I squeezed my eyes shut. It was creepy, but bearable. I wrapped my arms around my chest, holding still. At first the sensation was just a crawling tickle that raised goosebumps on my arms. My chest was still as the first wave of spiders reached up it. I didn't even dare to breathe. I tried to count the time away. I was certain I could do it.

Until they started to bite.

The first was a tiny prick on the back of my foot. It hurt about as much as getting poked with a toothpick; not much at all. But soon, others followed after it. The next few bites felt like a hundred hornet stings injected into my skin. The crawling worsened.

I stood there for what seemed like hours. The bites only got worse by the second. I felt like I was on fire, almost as if the spiders were eating away at my flesh. My skin swelled and blood oozed out from various wounds. I couldn't see my body anymore. There was just a moving layer of black, thickening by the moment.

They crawled in my ears, up my nose, and down through my under garments. Spiders, spiders,  _spiders_. My world was turning black with them. There was nothing there but the fire on my skin, the sting of their bites, the skittering of their tiny legs on the tile. I saw flashes of crimson and maroon while my chest squeezed, aching from the lack of oxygen. I showed no tears, but let it all happen.

It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, or even days. I wasn't sure. But eventually, after torture like I'd never imagined, the pain reached its peak. My muscles grew weak and I crashed head first into the edge of the shower, crippled by the sudden burst of it. I couldn't think anymore, but I knew one thing: I was dying.

My shoulders slumped in defeat and. . .

Ha-ha. Right.

Giving in wasn't an option. I was still stubbornly fighting against all of this with my final bits and pieces of energy. I forced my legs to lift my body up. My hands braced against the walls, feeling fuzzy and useless. I coughed and choked, my arms and legs shaking so hard it sent vibrations through the shower.

 _Fight_.

The thoughts were fading now as blackness started to overcome me. I held myself up and spit, sending spiders away from my lips. I took a breath, freeing my throat.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

There was no response. Somehow, I knew that monster of a man could hear me. I could almost see him standing in front of a screen, laughing as I was being taken over by a slow, painful death.

" _No_!" My words came louder now, defiant. My arms thrashed and my feet kicked as I flung packs of spiders from my body. I slammed myself into the door again, leaving behind a black and purple splatter of spider flesh and blood. I exhaled sharply, sending out another stream of spiders as I swayed in place, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My body trembled, and then shook, and then when I finally couldn't take it anymore, I exploded.

It was almost as if I left my body. The heat inside me bubbled as it shot through my veins. Bursts of flames licked through my veins. My hands and legs shot forward, seeming to stretch, and I could feel my body twist. I collapsed onto a wave of spiders, my face being covered with a thick mask of my own blood.

But I wasn't done fighting.

I was filled with heat.  _Deep_  heat. Not the heat that came from laboring under a baking sun. Not the kind of heat that came in curls of steam from a toasty shower. Not even the heat that seemed to fry and melt your skin that came from being too close to a fire.

It was so much more extreme than that. The heat burst inside me; a shot of crackling embers forced into my body. The heat spilled into my veins, flowing along with them. I found my body jerking and twisting as the heat constricted around my heart. I didn't fight it, but let it strip through my skin, bone, and muscle. I let the heat strip me dry into something else completely.

The burst of heat had given me new strength. My vision was murky and my other senses seemed dull, but I still knew what to do. My arms, feeling tickly and wobbly, moved forward. It was a long shot, but I was hopeful, confident in myself.

At first, there was nothing. Then, my ears popped open, and I could hear the  _whoosh, boom, crackle, splash_ as the glass broke. Hearing seemed so much stronger now, so much clearer. I heard every piece of glass drop to the ground and then bounce, sliding across the surface. It was almost as if I could hear the air in the room blasting away.

I didn't want to waste a second. I landed on my hands and knees, but I didn't stop there. My vision was still too clouded to see, but I rushed forward anyway. I shook my shoulders, my sides tipping left and right while spider after spider fell free. My skin was still burning, but the pain was easing.

My heart swelled as I kept moving.  _Faster, faster, faster._  The door must have been open, because I didn't stop there, but I could feel the smooth texture of tile change into a rough surface as I burst into the hallway. I could see little edges of the sides and tops of my vision now. The hallway was empty.

I forced myself to move faster. Light softly glowed above me. I let out a breath through my mouth, focusing my hearing ahead as the lights grew brighter and brighter.

That was when I heard the shouts.

"IMPOSSIBLE!"

"UNBELIEVABLE!"

"CALL THE POLICE!"

" _HELP_!"

Doubt squeezed the hope inside me, but I ignored it. I pushed my legs faster. I rounded the corner swiftly with amazing precision. I could see the light gleaming in the main room, sparkling onto the wide glass doors. An escape.

I was going to escape. I was going to make it. I was going to be free. I darted forward, not at all tired, and forced myself through the glass. I huffed while it shattered around me, and the feeling of the floor disappeared into rough, wet ground.

The forest wasn't far ahead. I could smell the scent of it stronger than ever, wrapping around my nose. I dove into the cover of the trees and raced down the slope until I was deep into the tree cover, hidden by the brush.

I growled once, feeling my lips stretch as I did so. Free. I was free; I had escaped. I considered turning back and bashing straight through the hospital to raise chaos, but figured that might draw to much attention. I lifted my head towards the sky, taking in a breath to give a shout of victory.

But my voice wasn't there. When I spoke, it came out as a yelp, a sound of surprise. Confused, I shook my head and cleared my throat, trying once again. The sound was exactly the same as before.

I swallowed, thinking maybe there was something stuck in my throat. Nothing seemed to be, though. Maybe it was just a wound. I tried raising my hands to feel my throat, but the movement caused me to topple backwards. I crashed into a bush, thorns jabbing at me.

The confusion grew stronger. I took another breath and shook my head again. Okay, so maybe my balance was still off. My vision was still black on the bottom and edges, after all. Glancing around, I spotted a puddle and decided it would be wise to hydrate myself.

I jogged over the puddle of clear, fresh rainwater, expecting to just lean over the water and take a few gulps. But as I peered over the water, my heart stopped.

I wasn't there.

Staring back at me was a blue-eyed white wolf, its eyes narrowed in suspicion. I made another one of those yelping noises, jumping back and swinging my head from side to side to look for the animal. My breath was quick and fast, my heart hammering in my chest. Wolves weren't commonly spotted, but there had been attacks before. I swallowed, waiting a few seconds, expecting the wolf to leap out at me. But it didn't.

I blinked. Maybe it had gotten scared and ran away. I jogged toward the puddle again, leaning over to take my drink and be done with it.

Again, there was the wolf. It stared back at me, its eyes narrowed again. I paused for a moment. I leaned to the left. The wolf in the puddle mirrored me. I leaned to the right, and so did the wolf.

What the hell?

I stared, frozen, a million thoughts rushing through my head. Impossible. It must have been the poison of the spiders, playing tricks on my mind. But what about all the people who had screamed when I had rushed past? Why had they done that?

I was snapped back out of reality when I heard a voice. The voice was clear as day, but I knew it was in my mind, because I was alone. I knew that voice. It was the same rough but comforting voice I'd just heard the other day. It was impossible, but I heard the words in my head, as clear as they could be, and there was no denying it.

_Surprising, ain't it?_


	17. Tempers and Tails

_"Then all at once he was standing there_  
 _So sure of himself, his head in the air..._ " - Roy Orbison.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Tempers and Tails

_May 23rd, 2005._

* * *

Hearing the voice caused me to pause, not breathing. I was frozen as I waited for some response, some answer as to what was going on. No other voice followed. I was alone.

Heaving heavy, hot breaths through the new muzzle sprouted off the end of my face, I tried to calm down. Being the genius I was, I backed up, swinging my head from side to side wildly as if the movement would shake myself into focus. When I moved, I couldn't help but notice how different everything felt, from the drooping layer of moisture in the air to the rough, cool texture of the forest floor against the pads of my paws. I could feel my fur brush the top of my head as I flattened my ears back, trying to block out the sound of the wind as it caressed the trees. My eyes fell shut while I pressed back against the side of a hill. I was mentally trying to convince myself that I was just seeing things, but deep down, I knew everything was more than a hallucination.

After a few minutes of silence, I hesitantly decided to try out my new body. My lips pulled back, revealing my pointed white teeth. It felt so weird now; it felt as if I wasn't even controlling myself. I have become nothing more than a thought process, floating around in a foreign body. Floating. That was a good way to describe how it felt.

The breeze picked up out of nowhere, stirring the silent forest. I could almost feel the damp stickiness of the spring humidity. I could taste the fresh raindrops falling lightly to the ground. When I focused, I could almost hear the light hum of life, signaling the forest's wake after many months trapped in a harsh winter slumber. It was all so defined now, so  _clear_.

My head tipped to the side, my body stretching out. I brushed one leg against the ground, hearing a twig snap under the clumsy movement of my large paw. My strength was still undefined, but I knew that I was much stronger in this body. I allowed myself to breathe again.

That was when I caught the scent of them. My eyes flashed open. The forest around me wasn't as brilliant as it had seemed—it was nothing more than the average green, rainy place I had always known. My heart pumped quicker than usual, and I was burning alive, my fur sticky on my skin. None of that mattered, though. My senses had now locked onto the musky scent of an animal.

I crouched back against the hillside, feeling dirt tumble into my coat when it felt the pressure of my body. Images popped into my mind: a flash of many colors, all blurred with speed while they raced through the forest, silent and swift. I snapped my head around, trying to pick out any sign of movement in the still forest. The wind picked up, blowing loudly, smacking me in the face with the scent of the creatures as they came closer.

When I forced my focus to channel solely on the presence of these creatures, I learned more about them. I could feel warmth, a steady pulse of heat, when it was carried over the opposite bump of a hill across from me. Buzzes of senseless thoughts shot from one place to the other. Paws thundered against the squishy ground, large and powerful but agile at the same time. The musky scent of them strengthened when they neared, closer and closer by the second.

Instinct led my eyes around the forest. I held my ground, a low growl rising in my throat. The swoop of land created a bowl shape around me, leaving me completely surrounded. My teeth gnashed together while I waited, pushing myself up on my paws to force myself to appear even more intimidating.

Automatically, a growl answered my own. It was louder, though, and edged with a grisly note. My head rose higher at the sound and my shoulders tensed when I pressed into the hillside, leaving no room for anything to sneak up behind me. I was completely prepared to defend myself against what was coming. But, once they had come into view, I realized two things: I already knew what was coming, unconsciously, and I wouldn't have to fight any of these creatures.

The first thing I saw was the tall, black form of a very large creature as it neared. I instantly compared it to a horse. The sleek, shiny coat, towering height, and rolling, powerful muscles reminded me of one instantly. But, when I looked closer, the broad shoulders and wide head told me I was mistaken. Two paws slammed down on the hillside, a tail swishing while a giant wolf stood before me. Its dark blue eyes were wide as it took in the sight of me. The eyes glittered while they studied me with more intelligence than any wild animal could ever hold. An air of authority surrounded the big, black wolf; he even held himself high up in a majestic manner. I started to growl to warn him off, but I was distracted by a small movement.

Four other wolves filled in formation behind the first. The second was almost as tall and broad as the first, but not quite. Its eyes appeared to have a lighter brown hue to them, probably due to the brown fur that covered its body. Despite the light of authority in his eyes, the wolf stood with his head slightly lowered, stationed at the flank of the black wolf. Behind the second was a wolf much smaller, his coat grey with a lighter coloring on the face. His paws were too big for his body. Across from him stood a silver wolf who was only a little bigger than the one before him. The smaller, more slender build crafted a feminine appearance.

A sudden movement tore my attention away. I forced my gaze past her and to a new wolf who had just joined the others. His fur was silver and his body muscular, even more so than the others. His ears pressed to his head, his eyes narrowing when he glared in my direction. He could have been intimidating, even if he wasn't the biggest of the wolves. I could almost smell his ill temper. I was about to give into the instinct to defend myself when my gaze met that of the silver wolf. I fell into the chocolate irises and was struck with a wave of recognition. Suddenly, it all made sense.

When I studied the faces of the wolves a second time, the names came. I listed them all in my head. First, I met the black wolf's gaze, noticing the warmth.  _Sam._ Then the brown one. I had to think for a moment, sifting through conversations and thoughts until his name came to my mind.  _Jared._ The grey one lifted his head, peering around Jared while he stared at me. His gaze took me back to the cafeteria, back to school. The name came to me in a heartbeat.  _Embry._ The female, silver with spots, was glaring at me with a look of irritation that could only come from one person.  _Nicole._  Finally, the silver male wolf, who stood with his head tipped far over as if he was waiting for me to recognize him.  _Paul._

 _Hey there, Jord!_ The wolf tossed his head, breath huffing from his muzzle. His shoulders rolled when he lunged away from the pack, landing softly on the ground.  _I was wondering when you were gonna show up. You took a pretty long time, if you ask me. Your sissy even thought you wouldn't show up at all!_ Paul's white teeth showed a grin while he flicked his ears in Nicole's direction.

The pack was suddenly in motion. They trotted down into the bowl, their thoughts being tossed around between minds. I relaxed myself the best I could, but my muscles wouldn't budge. My mind listened to the pack's, dipping into the different thought trails.

 _Thought? More like hoped_. Nicole's sides expanded when she sighed at Paul.

 _Easy now. She's new to this._ Sam's black wolf held his head over the others, hanging back as he watched them all circle me.

 _Damn, she's tiny!_ Jared chuckled mentally to himself at his own comment. The brown wolf bumped my shoulder when he passed.

 _New wolf to the pack already? At this rate, we'll be a hundred strong by this time next week!_ Embry's tone seemed more hushed; he appeared to be talking to himself.

I shifted my paws, testing my weight before I leaned forward, breaking free of the stubborn clench in my muscles. My mind spun with all the voices. Heat still was pulsing off my body; it was a miracle that I wasn't soaking in my own sweat.

Sam must have noticed this. His gaze met mine and his lips pulled back in a wolf-like smile.  _Alright, alright. That's enough. She'll need to adjust. Jared, take her out on a patrol, will you? The rest of you are dismissed. Nicole, Embry, Paul, let's go._

The lighter, silver wolf and the spotted one both dipped their heads, jogging after Sam without question. I swung my head over my shoulder, staring at the dark wolf beside me, feeling my body tense at the thought of being alone with him. Paul flattened his ears and crouched, his head bent low. He made it clear he wasn't going to follow after them.

 _Paul. Let's go._ The black wolf raised his head, hovering over the lowered silver wolf with narrowed eyes. The tone of his voice was hard and orderly, and something about it sent a prickle of heat through my body.

 _Sam, it's her first time. She should at least have someone familiar to show her around._ The dark silver wolf met Sam's gaze steadily, but his shoulders quivered despite his calm tone.  _Besides, we all know where she's been. That had to be enough to handle. Don't push her._

The brown wolf growled lowly.  _I can handle it, Paul._

_I didn't say you couldn't, Jared. I was sayin' that it's a pretty shitty idea to-_

_God, Paul. Why so damn whiny?_ My ears pressed against my head. The tension was hanging thick in the air, rubbing off on all of us. In the corner of my eyes, I could see the spotted, grey wolf hesitating in the distance, watching us all uneasily.

Both the brown wolf and the dark silver wolf snapped their heads to look at Sam. I followed their movement, studying his expression. Sam's lips were lifted slightly, showing a small flash of teeth. Despite his irritated appearance, the black wolf swung his head from side to side. He twisted back around and led Nicole and Embry back out.  _Just don't slack off._

With that, the three minds faded away from my own, leaving me with the smug thoughts of Paul and the apparently sour mood of Jared. Lovely.

 _I'm not normally in a sour mood. Just impatient, really._ The brown wolf shook his fur out.  _Normally, Paul's the pack bitch._

 _Ha, right. I'm pretty cool when I wanna be, right, Jord?_ The dark silver wolf brushed past the brown wolf and me, setting off at a jog, leaving both Jared and me to follow after him.

 _Let's just get this over with_. I lifted and dropped my shoulders, not bothering to mask the impatient bitterness in my tone. A light drizzle had started up again, but both of them were having no issue with the wetness or the mud that had thickened beneath their paws.

 _Oh, c'mon, Jord. Be thankful that you have somebody. None of us that phase, which is what we call the change, are alone anymore. A pack isn't a bunch of freaks with tails and tempers. A pack is a family brought together by magic in our blood, brought together to defend our people. Not a freak show, as you seem to be assuming._  Even though he was in front of me, I could see Paul's teeth again as he grinned.

Jared snorted, saving me from having to reply.  _Whoa, I never knew Paul was so cheesy._ The tone in his thought leaned toward disgust, but amusement flowed along with it.

Paul snapped his teeth defensively, mocking Jared's tone.  _Only for you, Jared!_ He huffed and paused mid-step, his gaze flickering back to mine. He allowed Jared to jog past him before falling in step with me, both of us flanking Jared as we ran.

 _Just give it a few days and the oversized paws will go away, too._ The brown wolf's body trembled as he let out a laugh.  _Now you two need to shut it for a while, or you'll end up scaring everything away._

The bitter words that had swelled into my mind faded away with the silence. I quickly adapted to their swift rhythm, my paws falling in a smooth pattern. The rain plastered our fur down to our bodies and the mud tried to suck in our paws, but the surprisingly graceful movements of our large bodies pressed on.

The forest was beautiful. The new scents of crisp plants and fresh rain were enough to cause my head to spin, while the sharpened beauty of it was amazing. Jared led us through an imaginary trail, occasionally pausing to test the air before continuing.

Growing curious, I waited a few hundred more paces until Jared stopped again. I mirrored his movement of bowing his head, my nostrils flexing when I tasted the scents on the ground. There was fresh soil and rain-soaked leaves, but something else beneath it. I inhaled once more, my stomach twisting as the scent entered my nostrils.

I gagged, my throat burning when the scent settled in. It was sweet at first, but the sweetness chewed through my nostrils. The acidic perfume was the most awful thing I had ever inhaled, even worse than any garbage dump. The scent pierced my nostrils and clogged up my throat. I found myself backpedaling, swinging my head and coughing. Jared and Paul both looked back at me, and then at each other, and they tossed their heads back, howling with laughter.

 _SHUT THE HELL UP!_ I snarled at the two of them. Bombs of instinct exploded inside of me, setting off alarms. I felt my body started to quake with the intensity of the sudden internal riot.  _WHAT WAS THAT?_

Neither Jared nor Paul was worried by my reaction. They only stared back at me, amusement in their wolfy grins. I flashed my teeth again, feeling a strong urge to sink them right into their muzzles and tear the grins clean off of their faces.

Jared winced at the thoughts. _That_. . .

 _Is a bloodsucker's stench._ Paul's contained laughter surged from his mind to mine while I coughed out the scent, feeling the last bits of it still tingling in my burning nostrils. It took a few minutes for his words to set in, but when they did, I was instantly on full alert.

_Shouldn't we be killing it? We kill them, so . . . what the hell are we waiting for?_

_Nah, it's just the Cullens._ Jared trotted over to the scent and carefully snuffed at the leaves, mentally debating whether or not it crossed some line.

 _Colons?_ My gaze turned to the dark silver wolf while he stared straight ahead, his lip curled. He was glaring pointlessly into the forest, his eyes taking in the green shades.

 _Cullens._ Paul opened his mind up, pushing it into mine. Pictures of Cold Men and even Cold Women scrolled across his mind.  _They're a group of leeches that our ancestors formed a treaty with. This scent line marks our boundary between our land and theirs. Our ancestors made an agreement when they came here that we won't hurt the Cullens if they don't cross this line._

My heart picked up, my ears pressed against my head in distaste.  _What's so special about these bloody bastards?_

I watched closely when Paul pulled up a close-up picture of one of their eyes. The eyes weren't the average crimson color, but a shimmering gold.  _They suck the life from animals, not humans. It's still disgusting, but not as sickening._

 _How will I know them? What happens if I kill them?_ I jogged around Jared and stood with Paul, my ears perked and my senses stretching. For once, I was actually nearly interested.

 _Treaty will have been broken and boom, war. Of course we'd win, but Sam wouldn't want that._ Paul's mind abruptly went silent while he continued to scroll across his memories of their appearances. First, an older male with blonde hair, his arm wrapped around a smiling woman with a heart shaped face. Then a honey haired leech with a scrawny one by his side. He showed me the lone one, with bronze hair and a scowl darkening his features before moving onto one who looked like a walking Barbie doll. I didn't really notice much about her; the big vampire next to her had captured my complete attention. The big Cullen really was huge: broad shouldered, muscled, and finished off with a towering height. I watched the hopeful fire in his golden eyes, taking note of his longing for a fight while remembering that he was the one with the thick black hair. Finally, the images scrolled across one more time before they dissolved like mist in his mind.

 _If we ever did have a war with them, I'd take that one, too. The big one, I mean._ His dark eyes set on me, his lips turned upwards on the edges in a wolf smile as he caught my interest.  _He seems to be the only one who would stand a chance. Against you, anyway. If he faced me, I'd have him before he could bare his fangs._

I nodded my head, but I didn't get a chance to reply. Jared snarled, causing both Paul and me to stare at him. He ignored us, alarm pulsing through his mind. The brown wolf retreated, tossing his head back and letting a powerful howl rip from his throat.

 _Shit!_ Paul whirled around, bowing his head as he began to nudge me back away from the invisible line, his body tensed. I shuffled my paws but allowed him to move me, the confusion of the sudden thoughts shooting between Paul and Jared slowing my reaction. Paul shook his head and shoved me with more power while answering my silent question.  _Sam's coming out here. They might have crossed._

Jared raised his head, his gaze darting around before settling on the two of us.  _It's pretty close. Paul, I'm gonna meet up with Sam. You stay here and wait._

 _Sure thing, man._ The force of Paul's shoves increased once he disappeared into the brush.  _Come on, Jord._

I glanced between the retreating brown wolf and the dark silver wolf, my heart thumping with excitement. My body swayed slightly as Paul pushed me again.  _What am I supposed to do?_

 _Go home._ Paul jabbed his shoulder into my side, knocking me back a few feet.

I huffed and slammed a paw down to catch my balance. Sudden irritation rose inside me. I found myself bracing my paws before the bigger dark silver wolf, my teeth bared defensively.  _I'm a fighter too, Paul._

Paul kept his head low and muzzle pointed downward, probably to keep me from feeling intimidated, his dark gaze probing into mine. He waited until my lip dropped slightly before he shook his head at me, his mental voice suddenly calm.  _You're new, and this isn't the kind of business for newbies. Besides, we don't even know if there will be a fight. Sam is coming now to ch eck the scent. Just head home. Sam's place isn't even a mile from here._ Paul paused, measuring the emotions in my eyes.  _If backup is needed, you'll be the first to know. Just let the older ones handle it for now._

I started to protest, but the expression on his wolf face stopped me. I growled gently at him, turning and shooting off into the forest, thundering across the wet ground. I pushed myself hard, the wind whipping into my fur, the rain wet nothing on my heavy coat. I didn't care while I forced myself onward, thinking only of the fact that my big chance to take out a vampire was foiled all because of my own pack's protectiveness.

After minutes of hearing only the huff of my breath and the pounding of my footfalls, Paul's mind fought its way back into mine. I knew he was only checking to make sure I was heading home okay, but something about the sensation of his mental presence set another spark of anger inside of me. I growled softly as he looked through my eyes for a moment. His voice spoke clearly in my head as he started to fade out. _It's okay; you won't miss a thing. See ya, Jord._

Snarling at Paul's last thought, I shook my head wildly, rearing back and halting. My paws slammed down, sending up a flurry of wet leaves and dirt. My body shook as I willed myself to go human, desperate to get the others' thoughts out of my head.

I stood there for a few minutes with my head down, my body unchanging. Finally, I calmed down enough to drag in a deep, muggy breath through my nostrils. My eyes fell shut as the world spun around me again, whirling around me in fast-forward. I felt dizzy, as if I, too, was caught in the mess. My knees hit the ground and I leaned forward, trying to catch myself. I opened my eyes to see what was really going on, only to see my hands beneath me.

Sighing in relief, I slowly stood up, checking my body for any signs of harm. I froze when I looked down, realizing I had no clothes on. My head snapped up, eyes narrowed as I searched to make sure there wasn't any unwanted audience. The only thing that met my gaze was the dark, swaying trees.

I wrapped my arms around myself and turned, setting off at a steady jog. The trees were already thinning out here. My stride lengthened, my arms pumping as the trees flashed by. The wind slapped against my exposed body with the speed, but I didn't care. I needed to get home, and quickly.

The eagerness got the better of me. I blasted out of the tree line, rushing toward the porch. My foot caught on the stair, pulling me down with a snap. I started to curse at it, but my voice morphed into a howl, my paws suddenly shooting back out in front of me as my wolf body thudded on the stairs. I shuddered violently, rolling on my back. Just as my shoulder blades touched the stair, my body shifted again and I was human once more. I let out a heavy sigh, scowling at the grey sky above me.

This whole wolf thing was going to take some getting used to.

My thoughts turned sour again as I rolled over, hands catching the stair as I dragged my throbbing, burning body up. I let out a shaking breath as the porch scraped my bare skin, tearing away at it. It wasn't fair that I had to come home and be out of all of this. How would I ever get used to being a wolf if they shut me out? Paul was out there, getting to deal with the vampires, while I was home waiting for him to call me. But if he called me, then I'd get to fight. Fight a  _Cold Man_. . .

"Kill a vampire." I whispered the words softly to myself, testing them on my lips. Realization dawned upon me. I wasn't just a heated, oversized freak. I was a fighter now, and I could fight against the creature that had haunted my life for the past eleven years. I almost grinned. Almost.

Maybe having a tail was going to be worth it after all.


	18. The Big Bad Wolf

_"Keep your distance,_  
 _Far away from me._  
 _Watch this eat me alive_  
 _Keep your distance,_  
 _Far away from me_  
 _Watch this eat me alive."_ \- The Used.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

The Big Bad Wolf

_May 26th, 2005._

* * *

"That's hot," Paul commented while bobbing his head to the music buzzing out of his cheap headphones. "You're gonna set a new trend."

I leaned over a puddle, studying my appearance. I scowled. My hair was a mess, splayed out around me as if I'd just gotten electrocuted and my face plastered with make-up to alter my appearance. It had been a while since I had committed all those murders, but in a small, secure reservation, that kind of news didn't die fast.

"I look like I have a severe case of bed head, and then took a bath in a puddle of crayons."

Paul only chuckled, shrugging his shoulders while popping the headphones out of his ears. He stuffed his music player into his pocket. "Nah, it's amazing. Once we get this over with, all the people on the street will stop and stare. They'll be all like, 'Whoa, who's that chick?' Paul paused to grin at me. "Then I can say, 'That right there is my best friend.'"

Glancing around, I rubbed my fingers to my forehead, trying to make myself smile. "Nice try, Paul."

With a fake huff of annoyance, Paul pulled me through the gathered crowd. "It was worth a shot." He patted my hair, smirking. "I'm still here for ya."

"As long as you don't start throwing a fit because you didn't get to go against the Cullens," I muttered.

Paul shook his head. "It was just a false alarm. I was hoping to get some action. And that was not a fit; that was a bout of vicious, manly anger."

I snorted. "Sure it was."

Being able to hang out with my best friend without a worry in the world was the best thing that had happened to me since . . . well, the best thing in my entire life, so far. Since I was now a part of the pack, things were smooth between us, just like they used to be. The bumpy texture of my upper half and the tiny scars still reminded me of what had happened. Sam also treated me like a little girl again, keeping me out of everything that happened with the pack in the past few days. He said it was for my safety, since I was new. Embry had just phased a few days before I had, so that was a sorry excuse. Life moved on, and other than those little things, I was managing just fine. Of course, I was still bitter, and I was defensive, but at times I found the strength to pull my walls down and be somebody.

People were scattered through the sandy streets. Grass sprouted through cracks in the ground. Summer was at its end and the reservation was showing off the last bits of its beauty. The sky was blue and free of clouds, the sun leaking warmth into the air. Wagons were pushed around with goodies as people bustled around to restock their homes for the coming winter. Children wove through the legs of adults, giggling, their braided hair bouncing along with every step. Cows tethered to thick ropes and boxes of clucking chickens were passed from one set of hands to the next. People shook cans full of coins as they shouted trade deals while the men in the shops hollered over the noise, pushing open the windows of their businesses as they advertised their products. It was a typically busy day in the main village of the reservation.

With his fingers clasped gently on my arm, Paul led me through the crowds. The heat of his skin blended with mine, no longer feeling as hot as it used to. He left his sleeve rolled up, showing the black tattoo on his shoulder. People recognized the tattoo as a sign of importance and they hurried out of our way, even if they didn't realize what it truly meant. I would have done the same, but the tattoo on my arm was still fresh and I was paranoid that exposing it might ruin the carefully crafted ink. That tattoo made me proud; it was a symbol of exactly what I was.

Eventually, we reached the last shop on the street. Paul shoved the wooden door open with his shoulder. It swung with a tiny ping, just barely missing my face. I glared slightly at Paul, who simply snickered, his chocolate eyes glowing with excitement as he led me to the counter.

The store was empty. If parents had money to spare, I was sure this place would be flooded with children. It was clearly a candy store. The store was rimmed by a counter, with overflowing jars of hard candies out for display behind the glass. Rows of tall racks of other candy took up the middle of the store. Lollipops dangled from the ceiling, and licorice was woven on the walls. The place was so colorful and vibrant that I felt dead and dirty just by standing inside.

"You like it?" Paul leaned back against the front counter, his arms propping himself up. I hadn't realized he'd let go of me and had been watching.

I frowned, my gaze darting around. "I don't understand."

"What?"

"Why did the big bad wolf take me to a damn candy store? I think I'm gonna choke on this air."

Paul was twisting licorice off the counter, chewing on it thoughtfully. "To get to the other side?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Paul."

"I just always loved this place when I was little. My friends used to—"

"Sir! You have to _pay_  for that!"

Paul whipped around at the barking voice of the old man. I snorted and crossed my arms over my torso to hide the candy. An old man was huffing and puffing as he hustled toward the counter.

"Sorry," Paul apologized quickly. He made a point to shuffle to the right so his tattoo was visible.

The spluttering old man dropped his gaze to the tattoo. He made a rumble that sounded like a growl before looking up at Paul again. "That'll be five dollars out of your pocket, boy."

Paul's eyebrows scrunched. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Yes, I do. You're an arrogant boy trying to rip me off because you painted a fake symbol on your shoulder." He leaned over and spat in a trash bucket before repeating himself. "Five bucks, for yours and the girl's."

Rolling his eyes, Paul's shoulders slanted as he fished through his pocket, drawing out a five-dollar bill. He waved it in front of the man before tossing it to him. "There's you go, Gramps. No thanks needed." He turned, leading me out of the store and onto the gritty, muddy sidewalk.

"What an asshole," I mumbled as I unfolded my arms, biting the candy in my teeth and ripping off a bite.

"Tell me about it." Paul kept close on the sidewalk, his pace slowing as we distanced ourselves from the store. "A complete rip off."

I nodded, chewing slowly before swallowing. "Wouldn't be a first."

Paul chuckled softly, his anger seeping away. He tilted his head back, shoving the whole stick of licorice into his mouth and chewing it quickly. "I think he was asking for it." Paul swallowed hard, his throat expanding for a moment as it slid down. He wiped his arm over his mouth before speaking again. "I didn't upset you by doing that, did I?"

"What do you think I am, a damsel in distress?" I finished off my own candy as I spoke, watching the swirls of the muddy path beneath my feet as we neared the edge of the village.

"Uh . . . you. . ." Paul shook his head, letting his voice trail off. He scratched the back of his head.

"Oh really?" I shoved his shoulder with my own, knocking him back slightly. "Spit it out."

Paul exhaled slowly, turning his face to look at me. "What they did to you on the Makahs. It didn't change you, did it?"

The light shade of relaxation faded out of my expression. My teeth clamped down, and a prickle of anger crept into my veins. I shook my head once, as if I hadn't understood him.

His eyes darted down to my arm, staring at the hundreds of scars. They were almost invisible, but still clear to see with our heightened senses. "What exactly did they, you know, do to you?"

I listened to the soft patter of our footsteps, trying hard to shove out the defensive part of me. "Forget it."

He cleared his throat, glancing over at me. "But what are you gonna do?" he pressed. "You're just going to keep it all to yourself, and never let anybody know what's going on over there?"

I swung my foot back, kicking a nice sized rock and watching it clatter down the dirt path. A slight layer of anger went with it. "Forget it."

Paul shrugged, raking a hand through his cropped black hair. "Am I out of luck?"

"Patience," I muttered.

There was a sharp whistling noise as he exhaled. "I'm not very good at being patient."

"Me neither, but you don't hear me whining about it."

Paul snickered, shrugging his shoulders once more. "Still . . . doesn't all of that, all of what happened, bother you? Wouldn't it make you act different around people? You don't seem so . . . loose anymore."

I was quiet for a few minutes while I considered his question. "Not really. I guess I'm kind of an outcast."

Paul snorted, his eyes narrowing as a mischievous smirk grew on his face. "I can fix that for you." He glanced at my challenging expression, and then put his hands up. "Kidding, kidding. Give it time. You sound like you can handle tough crap, especially like being left out." Paul grinned.

"Handle tough crap, huh?" I nodded slowly. "Where did that impression come from?"

"Uh, well, I guess I've always expected girls to cry or chew off their fake nails, or maybe even throw a hissy fit when they're going through rough things. But you . . . you just don't."

I shrugged while studying the sky. "I guess that makes me a little different than other girls?"

"Totally. You're like your own  _species_."

I scoffed and threw my elbow into his ribs. "Says the werewolf."

Paul raised his arms, chuckling while he hopped back to dodge my jab. "Yeah, She Wolf. I said it. Got a problem?"

"Want a list, do you?"

"Hell yeah! Bring it!"

I snorted. "The list is a little too long, Lahote."

Paul huffed. The sound was supposed to come across as irritated, but to me, he just sounded playful. I nodded once more, not bothering to try to form a smile that wouldn't come.

"Upset?"

When he didn't answer right away, I looked up, confused, only to find Paul glaring at me. He caught my gaze and forced me to look at him. Once he was sure he had my gaze, he nodded very slowly.

My expression hardened. "Suck it up."

Paul laughed at my word choice, shaking his head. "Guess you fit in, She Wolf."

"With what?"

Paul's gaze flickered over to mine. "The pack."

I raised an eyebrow, thinking about how he had agreed that I was an outcast. "How so?"

Paul rubbed the back of his neck, his expression growing thoughtful. "You just fit in with us. Maybe you're not close, but you just act like one of us. You can stick up for yourself. You don't need anybody to always have your back, even though you've had a hard life." He paused for a moment. "But I still got your back anyway."

I shrugged thoughtlessly at the rest of his comments. " _You_  have my back?" I snorted. "I'm screwed."

Paul's eyes narrowed into slits. At first I thought he was offended by my sarcastic comment. I stared at him as I racked my brain for some mistake until I noticed that he had raised his gaze to stare into the woods. I followed his stare, studying the black, tall figures of the forest trees. I didn't realize we had walked so far. "Paul—"

l never got to finish my sentence. Paul froze, his hand reaching out to stop me in the middle of my step. He stood taller, tensed. I froze too, not even breathing. Instinctively, I glanced around, scanning for any sign of danger. I saw nothing. A moment later, the sound of the howl caught in the stirring breezes reached my ears. Paul and I both looked at each other at the same moment before launching off the path and into the trees.

My heart was pumping, my body tingling with the rush of adrenaline. I threw branches and kicked over bushes while I raced after Paul. He used one hand to rip the shirt over his head. The other seemed to be reaching for his pants, but suddenly, his form burst out in a flash of grey, and Paul was gone. In his place stood the silver wolf, his body trembling while it settled from the change. His white teeth gleamed when he snuffed and snarled.

I dodged the wolf and kept running deeper into the forest. For a second, I faltered, my throat thick while I realized I didn't know how to change into a wolf. The first time was triggered by the spiders, the second a shock, and only for a moment. I anxiously shifted through my thoughts, trying to remember.

After a few minutes, I closed my eyes. The wind brushed me as I kept running through the woods, allowing my senses to guide me. I forced my breathing to speed, feeling the heat inside me start to rise. My heart pumped harder with excitement. I shivered at the burst of heat as it shot through my veins like wildfire. I let out a moan as I was filled with the sensation of falling through the air. My bones twisted, my muscles shifting. Goosebumps rose on my skin while hair sprouted through it. The flames grew impossibly hot. When I was sure my bones and muscles would break through my skin and the heat would engulf me, my shoulders hunched. I opened my eyes and stared down at two white paws just as they thudded to the ground.

The grey wolf brushed by me a moment later, charging past me and deeper into the forest.  _Nice one. Not as smooth and cool as me, though._

I was too high on the feeling of the change to completely register his words. I lunged after him, liking the feeling of raw power and grace. _You wish._

Paul's head jerked slightly as he snorted, plowing straight through the brush.  _Keep dreaming. Or maybe you will be better than me. When I'm dead._

Carefully, I darted around the path of destruction Paul was making. I pushed myself faster, my eyes narrowing as I rushed after him.  _That can be arranged._

Paul's mind scrambled slightly while he fought for a response. Another voice cut into our conversation, one I'd never heard before.  _Ooh, aren't you a feisty little girly-wolf?_

I raised my head higher, looking around the forest. Nobody seemed to be near us. The voice let out a laugh. A picture of a clearing entered my mind. Sam's black wolf sailed through the image, thundering across the clearing. Grass flew in every direction as two flashes of silver and grey, blurs of accelerating watercolors, raced after him. I could have sworn that the bushes were blown back, knocked over by the speed.

_Jared, shouldn't you be busy trying to keep up with them?_ Paul's voice was a grumble while he angled himself to head in the direction of what I assumed to be the clearing. I followed after him, keeping my thoughts on the forest and the current conversation.

_Hey, no hard feelings man._ Jared's thoughts faded slightly as he focused deeper on his task instead of the conversation.  _I was just picking on the newbie. It's my job, you know?_

Another voice chimed in. I knew it was Embry's, having remembered it from many conversations in school with Jacob and Nicole.  _Since when?_

Jared didn't have a chance to answer, as Paul cut in.  _It doesn't matter. Sam, what the hell is going on here?_

_Vampire._ Sam's voice was thick and deep. I dipped my mind into his curiously, still remaining silent as I watched the forest blur by through his eyes.  _Nicole scented it._

_Yeah, it was a female one, passing through the border. Recently. There was another, but I wasn't sure. Not a Cullen, so it's an open target._ Nicole's voice was tinged with an edge of smugness. I could feel her thoughts pushing into mine, but I ignored it and kept busy with trying to catch up.

Paul's lips turned up in what seemed to be a wolfish smile.  _Awesome. We're on our way._

Paul's head rose, turning over his shoulder while his gaze settled on me. I rounded a tree and lunged, falling in step next to him. We raced shoulder to shoulder, zipping through the meadow at the same moment. The scents of the other wolves flashed in front of me before disappearing with the breeze.

Heartbeats later, we fell in step with each other, moving as one. Shoulders bumped against mine while I charged into them. Paul shoved Embry and Nicole out of the way, making his way toward Jared. Sam was far in the lead, his head the only thing visible over the others. I tried hard to hide the excitement bubbling through me, and tried to ignore the rush of the fact that I was on my first vampire chase.

_Sam, we're close,_ Jared noted.  _Just a few minutes now; I can sense it._

_Alright, Jared. Paul, you float off to the side in case she tries to flee west._

Paul's head dipped.  _On it._

His wolf disappeared into the shadows with a flash. I pushed against the silver wolf, filling in the spot just behind the black and brown wolves before me. I cranked up the speed, loving the tireless feeling in my legs.

_Jordan, this is your first chase. I understand that_   _you're excited, but you need to stay back with Embry and Nicole. It's not safe._  Sam's tone was full of warning, but I didn't hear a single word.

A stench had filled my lungs, intoxicating me. I could feel and taste the vampire. A Cold One. Just like the one that had killed my parents. I was  _so close_  to killing one.

I couldn't take it anymore.

My body curled back and rocketed forward. I huffed with every step, plowing through the larger wolves until finally, I could see the white blur as it blasted through the forest ahead.

The pack's thoughts were bombing in my brain, but I didn't hear a single one. They all halted, but I couldn't stop myself as I rushed forward. My ears were drumming, heart pounding along to the beat. This was  _my_ kill.

Another wolf, I think it was Embry, broke me out of my rhythm. He threw himself into me, knocking me down in a hurried attempt to stop me. Snarling and spitting, my head reflexively reached out and latched my teeth onto his flank, dragging him down with me. My body rolled, tumbling head over heels as I crashed downhill.

The vampire was getting away.

Just the thought filled me with rage. The yips and snaps of teeth behind me let me know that the rest of the pack was hot on my heels. I slammed my paws into the ground, gaining control. I pushed myself to my feet in time to see the human form of Embry continue to crash down the hill, his left arm slapping the trees in a desperate attempt to slow himself. He was saying something too, but I couldn't make out the words. I had to get that vampire.

Not having a second to lose, I twisted around and shot off after the scent of vampire.

The sickly sweet scent trickled into my nostrils, growing stronger with every powerful stride. Just the scent was driving me nuts. The desperation to kill swelled deep inside me, pushing me forward. The forest faded out around me, being sucked into the blackness. I charged forward, only seeing the bloodsucker ahead of me, knowing that soon I would have her down.

After a few more lunges and dodges, my prey came into clear view. She was rather scrawny, with long, silvery blonde hair. Her skin was white and her eyes sparkled crimson. The leech leaned forward intently as if she was waiting for something.

Her stupidity of not seeming to sense my approach must have been to trick me, because when I lunged at her, she jumped at me with a metallic screech. My ears flattened when her fist connected with my muzzle. The force caused my teeth to rattle and blood to spray out of my nose. I snuffed, clearing my muzzle while my paws continued to push forward, knocking the parasite down.

She was quick, though. When I knocked her down, she rolled away and slipped back up into a crouch. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she moved her head to study my every movement. I shook my shoulders to clear out my fur and snapped my teeth, slamming a paw down and lowering my body until my back was perfectly straight.

This was my first fight against a vampire. I'd seen the pack think about it and watched them be shredded by gleaming white teeth. But I had no advantage with skill. I think the vampire might have thought that, too.

She jumped at me again, her arms spread wide, her lip curled back as she let loose a stream of hisses. I was ready this time and swung my body around to the side. Not wasting even a heartbeat, I lashed forward again, my jaws closing on the vampire's shoulder. She gave an awful scream as I jerked back, pulling her down while feeling her arm dislocate and break off in my teeth. Her skin crackled like ice, spiky shards prominent where her arm had been moments before.

The temperature of her arm was so cold, it stung my mouth like fire. I dropped the limb as the vampire continued to scream, frantically swiping at the armless shoulder. She was distracted. I took my chance and lunged at her again.

Unprepared, the vampire only had time to uselessly claw her fingers through my fur as I pinned her. My jaws opened wide and I closed them around her throat, sinking my teeth in deep. I shook my head wildly, listening to the spitting and hissing of the leech until her body thumped to the ground, no longer connected with her head.

My jaws still clasped the throat. I increased the pressure in my jaws, growling as I focused. Seconds later, the neck and head of the vampire shattered to bits. She was dead.

Pride swelled inside me. I reared up, my paws pattering against the ground while my head fell back, a victorious howl rolling through my mouth. I spun around and launched myself into the trees, eager to share my victory with the pack.

I flew through the forest, my muscles rolling, legs pumping, breathing in sync with the air itself. The miles disappeared at an incredible rate. I cleared a fallen tree before skidding to a stop, my fur ruffled but my muzzle still carrying a brilliant grin.

They weren't waiting for me. They weren't even happy. In fact, none of them were even paying any attention to me. All of the packs' bodies were huddled close, their tails dropped low. My lip dropped, my breathing quieting. When I crept closer to the group, I could see why they were acting so strangely.

Embry lay human on the ground in the middle of the circle, his body curling upward with every trembling breath. His abs tensed, sweat gleaming on his exposed russet skin. His cheeks swelled and relaxed with the puff of every breath. I stared at his fingers pressed tight into his elbow. Embry let out one final breath before jerking his arm back out, his jaw clenching as he grunted at the pain. His arm fell back into place with a sharp crack.

"A-Ah. . ." Embry sighed once. He wasn't done, though. His eyes squeezed shut, the shaking increasing, and his whole body balled together before disappearing when he burst into his wolf form.

_That's better. Much better._

My whole body tensed when Embry's thoughts hit me. The pack's thoughts jumbled together as they all pressed in around the spotted wolf, huffing and growling as they asked their questions.

_Serves ya right for tackling a wolf in motion!_

_Did it break?_

_You okay, man?_

_Embry, are you in any shape to take the next patrol?_

The spotted wolf shook his shoulders, his head bowed. He appeared to be embarrassed by all the attention.  _I'm fine, seriously._

His dark gaze swept over the pack, assessing them before they set on the space between the black and silver wolf, focusing in on me.

At the same time, all four of the other heads snapped up. I stiffened, my lip raising instinctively at the pairs of bared white teeth. The hostility in their eyes sent a flame through me. I exhaled sharply, tensed under their silent, furious gazes.

Each mind had fallen silent. We all stood there for what seemed like hours, locked in glares, until the black wolf broke through the pack, towering high above me.

_Why did you continue after that vampire, Jordan?_ His tone was sharp and rough.  _I told you not to, but you disobeyed me._

_I just wanted to get the damn 'sucker._ My ears pressed flat against my head, my body lowering to the ground under his gaze.

_You were out of control. You injured a pack brother, Jordan._ The black wolf's gaze darted around.  _As a consequence, you are to phase back immediately and head home._

I nodded to him, my emotions churning deep inside me, all contained in a forever growing pit.  _Yeah, yeah. Okay, Sam._ Still holding my head high, I padded through the group of wolves. A low growl rumbled through them, but Sam silenced it with a flick of his ears. I didn't look at Paul as I passed him but continued pressing forward, the swirl of his own emotions being lost behind me.

Violence filled my thoughts. If I couldn't kill vampires, what would I do to keep my head clear? If I had the power, I wasn't going to ignore it. The face of Mr. Anderson was at the front of my mind. I imagined sinking my claws into his face, digging them into his flesh before dragging them apart, pulling his face apart, listening to the throaty scream. . .

_Jordan._

Sam's tone was serious but softer now. I allowed my paw to dangle in the air as my head swung back. I met the dark blue pools of his eyes steadily, my mind still raging and at loss for words.

The black wolf swished his tail, dismissing the rest of the pack. They all shot off into the trees, leaving just Sam and me. He stepped forward, his head held high over mine as he peered down at me.  _Don't do anything stupid. That includes going back to the Makah reservation. You are to go home and stay there while you think about what you've done. Am I clear?_

I probed into Sam's stare but didn't find any emotion. Not wanting to answer, I ducked my head in a form of a submissive nod. The black wolf's head swung from side to side before he disappeared into the forest.

Once I was sure they were all gone, I allowed the furious fire to explode through my body, blistering heat escaping the confined depths of my core. My body trembled as I tried to force myself back into a human, the strain so heavy that spit ran through my jaws. I threw my weight around wildly, shaking and jerking and violently thrashing, until finally, I shook free of the wolf and melted into my human skin.

But not even the shift of bone and muscle could extinguish the burn of the released anger that raged through me; real and hot and craving a very bloody revenge.

 


	19. Trapped

_"Maybe if I fall asleep, I won't breathe right_  
 _Maybe if I leave tonight, I won't come back."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Trapped

_August 14th, 2005._

* * *

It was midnight.

The wooden floors creaked and groaned, as if complaining about the weather. After living in Washington all my life, I was used to storms, but the dull whistle of the wind and thrashing branches of the trees kept me awake. Sleep hovered, heavy in my head. My eyes were peeled, my body positioned upright with my legs crossed. I stared blankly at nothing, dying to be somewhere else.

Every part of me longed to be in the woods, to be in different skin. I didn't want to be human. It almost felt as if I didn't even belong in this body. My shoulders hunched and my back ached from sitting straight. I shrugged around in my shirt, feeling awkward in it. My nostrils twitched, unable to figure out why the scents weren't as defined. I was trapped in a hot, sticky body; trapped as a human.

Jordan Uley seemed so far away. In my mind, I was the white wolf of the woods, glowing in the darkness of the shadows. I was powerful and swift. I could see the reflection of my dark blue eyes as they gazed into an empty pool of red leech eyes. I could feel the sparks of heat as that same leech burned beneath my paws.

I craved the freedom that being a wolf granted me.

The pack was out in the woods without me, as usual, even as the storm raged on. Sam, Jared, Paul, Embry, and even Nicole were running the muddy land, shoulder to shoulder. I could see them when I closed my eyes. A blur of black, brown, silver, and grey braving the storm as they pressed on, protecting the tribe as they were made to. All of them except me, the newbie. When I asked to go out to patrol with them, I was rejected, as I had been time and time again over the past few months. Sam had told me I had been through a lot and needed to rest. Nicole had muttered about how I would get in the way. I didn't care if I was exhausted, annoying, or new. I couldn't stand being myself. I couldn't stand being the drag in everyone's lives. I couldn't stand being so useless.

My head pressed back into my soft, fluffy pillow. I sighed softly to myself while my eyes traced the pattern of the ceiling, memorizing every inch of it. Thoughts continued to rush through my head: pictures, memories, ups and downs, highs and lows. I was starting to get annoyed with the thoughts. With a huff, I rolled over and yanked my blanket over my shoulder.

When I moved, my shirt bunched up, gathering in a tight mass under my arm. I raised my hands, yanking it back into place before stretching my arms out over the pillow, allowing them to dangle comfortably off the end of the bed. Just a moment later, my shirt raised again, gathering in the exact same spot, nearly strangling my breasts. I snarled aloud. I shoved it back down, but it raised right back up. My fingers clenched into the fabric, my arm ripping it off. I spat and flung the tattered remains of the shirt across the room. My annoyance rippled through the pit of my stomach, causing me to jerk upright into a sitting position just as thunder cracked in the background. I opened my eyes, blinking as I looked around.

Just then, lightning ignited the room. There was a quick movement, a flash of white. My head snapped toward the window, following the source of the light out of instinct. The second my eyes focused outside the window, my heart seemed to stop.

A pale man was in midair as he lunged for the window. His nails were outstretched, his brilliant eyes gleaming. Slowly, his lips parted, revealing sharp teeth, the tips dripping droplets of crimson.

I leaned forward quickly, hands clenching my blanket. Heart hammering, I struggled desperately to pull the ball of heat from the center of my body, waiting for the flames to flood my veins and change my form.

But it didn't. I struggled for a moment longer before my eyes blinked shut. When they opened a heartbeat later, the Cold Man was gone, as if he'd been swept away in the wind. The trees still thrashed, and sheets of white rain whooshed down my window. The Cold Man had been a fantasy of my thoughts, another trick of my own mind.

With a frustrated snarl, I collapsed into my pillow. I bashed my head into the cushion of it, murmuring slurred Quileute words to myself. It took a few minutes, but eventually, the dizziness stole away into sleep.

Even in my sleep the monster mingled with the wolf burning inside me, flooding my skull with heated, agonized screams that felt good enough to be real.

 


	20. Fade

_"Can nobody hear me?_  
I've got a lot that's on my mind  
I cannot breathe  
Can you hear it, too?" - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Fade

_August 14th, 2005._

* * *

The TV blared at full volume. My jaw was clenched, my fingers squeezing the remote. My body heat was rising like steam from an oven, and it was about to hit the ceiling. My eyes were glued on the floor while I listened. Just hearing the rehearsed voice of the reporter set my temper ticking. I couldn't comprehend the words as my brain sent out cycle after cycle of rage. It was the sound of her name that spoke to me. The sound of the name that had once held meaning to me.

"Jordan Uley is mentally disturbed, I believe. Officials have released her identity as the search for her still proves to be unsuccessful. Her guardian seems to have disappeared as well. Perhaps her parents are too ashamed to show their faces. Perhaps she has ki—"

The voice of the interviewed man was cut off when the TV exploded. I stared blankly at it, now scarred with webs of cracks, the remote that was in my hand just a moment ago jutting out of its center. My temper was out of control, what with all the gossiping newsmen making me famous. They were pressing just the right buttons to let my bottled rage fly, and I wasn't taking very nicely to it.

I quickly slid my foot over the broken pieces and ground them into the floor with my heel. I inhaled and exhaled in a practiced, steady rhythm, struggling to calm myself. I tried to focus on other things, anything but the words ringing in my ears: the whine of the wind outside, the gentle tapping of rain on the window, and. . .

My senses picked up on muffled laughter, echoing from down the hall. My hands curled into fists, my nails scraping against my rough skin. I could still hear Sam and Leah long after they had shut the door, not because of my wolf's impressive radar, but because they weren't bothering to be quiet. They had been too into each other to even remember there were other people around. Too in love to hide the sounds of their affection.

I shook my head, heading for the stairs. Love—they were in love. My lips curled as the wolf in me spat, disgusted by the mere sound of the word.

My feet were silent on the stairs as I slipped into to my room. I could hear Sam's voice in my head, reciting what he would have said if he weren't so busy with Leah and knew what I was about to do.  _Bradley and Sophie . . . they wouldn't approve._  But they weren't here to tell me what to do anymore. They never would be. There wasn't any part of my brain capable of sugarcoating my reality.

My voice was jumbled in my head, my thoughts too scattered to be understood. At one time, I might have listened to myself. But the wolf had taken over, and the wolf wasn't going to share any part of me. Jordan Uley had faded to the point that all memory of her was a static emptiness.

Another flicker of heat struck me. My vision was blinded by the fury, and then suddenly, it returned with a sharp new focus. I could see the world just as I had, only completely different. I could see the world as a wolf. As a killer.

As who I had become.

Instinct had no patience for consideration. My heart clenched and my breathing stopped. I was suddenly in motion, lunging at the bedroom door. My fingers clamped down on the handle, rattling it with the waves of the tremors that shook my entire being. I jerked my arm back, tearing the door clean off before flinging it carelessly behind me.

I stepped into my room, my eyes moving across its contents. My breathing was choppy, my eyes narrowed while red stained my vision. I rushed forward, my mind working at a million miles an hour, my dark eyes zeroed in on the wet window.

I was blazing.

I was alive.

I was deadly.

I was wild.

I could escape the walls through the shining glass.

I had to do it.

I could do it.

I  _would_  do it.

Why  _would_  she stay? Why would the wolf run beneath bleak skies, her instinct racing through her, telling her to kill? Telling her she was made to kill even though there wasn't anything  _to_  kill. Ordering her to kill until she could only turn on everything she was killing for.

I took a single stride, followed by another. That was it. A quick  _one, two_ , and I was leaving everything behind. My shoulders curved, my arms pointed forward as I charged straight through the window. The glass rained down on me while it shredded my clothes and skin.

Blood leaked out onto the deck, leaving splatters of crimson on the paint. My healing had accelerated with the beat of my heart, causing the wounds to seal in seconds. I let out one more heated breath before my hand lashed out, catching the railing of the porch before I hurled myself over.

I fell.

Down.

Down.

Down.

My feet hit the roof of Sam's truck. I crouched, my hands bracing myself against the surface as I steadied myself. I sucked in a deep breath, tasting the clean air, glancing around before swinging myself into the driver's seat in one smooth movement.

I had never driven a car before. I shifted in the seat, my gaze darting around. I snatched up the silver key, jamming it into the ignition. The truck sputtered while it came alive with a roar. I bared my teeth and put my hand on the throttle. I turned my wrist in, shoving the throttle toward the  _D_. My foot jammed onto the gas and the truck rumbled, shooting forward.

It drove smoothly, but it didn't do so well once I swerved off the trail. It rocked and jumped at every tree root, occasionally smashing into boulders while flattening every bush. I didn't ease up, my foot suffocating the gas pedal while I forced the truck to move faster, the fury pumping in my veins, not wanting to waste a minute. But of course, there always had to be some interruption just when I thought I was going to get away.

There was a flash of copper ahead, a form hopping into my path. I leaned forward, my heart skipping beats while it fluttered angrily. I squinted as I made out the form of the figure. Black hair was plastered down with rain, rounded muscles but still a slender build, cut off jeans riding his hips, and light brown eyes.

I didn't see Embry in front of me.

I only saw the obstacle in my path.

I stomped on the gas pedal once more. The truck powered forward, sending mud flying in every which way. Embry stood as a brown, muddy statue before the path of the truck, his eyes widened in terror; a doe trapped in headlights.

We stared at each other in silence for a few minutes, Embry frozen and stricken with shock while he took in my expression. Finally, he raised his hands. His mouth opened, his body freezing for another moment while he struggled to form the words in his mind.

Slowly, Embry's hands rose. "Whoa!"

My body didn't respond to the signal. I leaned forward eagerly, my gaze locked on his.  _Threat, threat, threat._ He was nothing more than a threat.

I could almost feel my eyes dilate, almost taste the heat as it spread through my body. My body roared with excitement as the truck picked up speed, chugging straight toward the stationary figure. Just before the impact hit, Embry tumbled to the side. I shouted out, my voice a mixture of a howl and a screech, before the truck met a wide tree with an audible boom.

The tree groaned and swayed, my eyes locked on the front of the truck as it seemed to fold inward, glass spitting at me like millions of flying daggers. I tore myself free without hesitation, shoving myself hard into the window. My body tumbled out, head over heels, into the mud-soaked grass.

A moment later, I was on my feet again. My arm snapped back as I felt a piece of glass in my shoulder. I yanked it out, crunching it to bits in my fingers. I tossed the sprinkles behind me, allowing the rush of the wind to carry it back.

My stride lengthened with every step, my arms pumping with the twist and turn of my body. The wolf inside me had been suffocating for too long; I had to let it out. The fire of rage shook me both inside and out, changing me. The pain was melting my skin, burning me alive.

That was the time to escape; I could  _feel_  it. I took a deep breath and let the flames engulf me, leaning down while releasing the tremors locked up in the center of my being. My hands disappeared, twisting into paws while the change set in. My body bowed toward the ground.

With a jerk of my head, my neck extended and shimmered away into the wolf, my paws sliding slightly in the mud. I raised my head, staring into a sky bleached grey. The wind caressed my fur, tossing around scents in my nostrils and bringing flashes of images along with them.

This was what I had been missing.

This was who I have become.

My paws thundered against the ground, having no need to be quiet. My breath clouded, heavy and steamy, in front of me. Muscle, bone, and blood all moved in rhythm, my body captured in the beat of my frantic escape. I raced deep into the forest, leaving everything behind. I swiftly threw myself over fallen trees, logs, plowing over anything in my way.

There was no time to cover my tracks, and my paws left defined prints in the mud. I forced myself to power forward. I zipped through the vegetation, thinking that the prints would be nothing compared to the blaze that seemed to start when the heat of my flaming body blew through the forest. When I broke through the tree line and into the empty streets of the village, I pushed myself even faster. I was so drunk with the freedom and the speed that the realization didn't hit me until I'd cleared out of Quileute land completely.

I heaved out a large breath, my mind still cruising, even while the fire inside me ebbed. For a moment, it seemed as if I might have caught myself. But only a moment.

Again, the eagerness spoke to me, stronger than before as it surged through me. The flames were urging me onward, motivating my paws to keep going.  _Faster, faster, faster._

I tossed my head back and let my voice roll out of my mouth. The howl sung in harmony with the lyrics of the wind, charging with the currents for miles. Once the sound died out completely, I was far past the boundaries, entering a foreign world. My paws carried me into the deepest shadows, rage roaring inside me. The taste of revenge was already sweet on my tongue. The fading howls in the background meant nothing to the wolf. She was nothing.

My family, my past, and my life disappeared behind me, fading away as if they too, were nothing.

And so did Jordan Uley. What was left of her, at least.

**END OF PART I.**


	21. Fighting Freedom

[ **A/N** : This is part two of Monster, taking place during  _Eclipse_. These first four chapters are an exposition, but after that the plot takes off. Part two is rated M for violence, language, alcoholism, non-explicit reference to sexual content, and intense anger/angst.]

* * *

**PART II - Eclipse.**

**~:~**

_"I'm a stranger in a strange, strange land_  
 _Gone, gone, just gone without a sound."_  - The Bravery.

* * *

Chapter Twenty One

Fighting Freedom

* * *

Just as an icy fist whistles past her ear, the white wolf ducks, snapping her gleaming teeth together—taunting her prey. The wolf's opponent hisses, his crimson eyes alive with blazing rage. He curls his lip back before mindlessly hurling himself straight at the attacking wolf. Again, the wolf dodges her opponent's attack with ease. She doesn't have a problem fighting monstrous opponents such as this one; she will end her prey's struggle soon, but this game still amuses her.

The white wolf counters her target's attack swiftly, her body striking him down while her massive front paws crush his chest, heavy anchors that pin him down with a crushing force. The white wolf exhales slowly, melted snowflakes dripping off her muzzle. The flurry of snow settles into a gentle downfall around the wolf and her infuriated prey.

The red-eyed monster spits venom, uselessly swiping his cracked, broken hands at the wolf above him. The white wolf flattens her ears and snaps tauntingly at the fingers that graze her chest. The creature's lips pull back, revealing his brilliant white teeth as he claws at the wolf's throat. The wolf rumbles, ignoring the protesting thrash of her opponent as she leans her muzzle down toward his exposed neck, allowing his sickening scent to tease and linger in her nostrils before biting down, her teeth sinking through the creature's throat. His skin splits, shattering and crunching. With a flick of her powerful neck, the white wolf pitches her opponent's disconnected head into an oak with supernatural strength. The tree moans once before crashing into the sea of white below.

Swift and casual, as this is everyday business, the wolf tugs the shiny lighter attached to her hind leg free from its winding cord. Clicking it on with her teeth, she watches a burst of orange, angry light rise from the tip. The light flickers as it tumbles through the air, bursting into a dancing wave of hungry flames the moment it makes contact with the limp, icy body below it. The white wolf settles down, satisfied as she watches the flames consume her prey. The wolf's mind wanders, floating away into a different time.

_The white wolf circles a pile of white. Her coat is matted with packed snow, but it drips off her, melting with her unnatural body heat. The snow floating around her catches in the wind of her breath, instantly dissolving. The wolf pauses for a moment, her eyes flicking back to the pile behind her. Dozens of agonized, screaming faces stare back at her, their red eyes clouded with death._

Reality swarms back into the wolf. The memory is only there for a short time, but long enough to irritate the white wolf. She can't afford distractions; distractions are weaknesses. She violently shakes her head from side to side, snarling and lunging forward as she wills herself to focus. A ripple passes through the wolf's stomach. She growls at the sensation, but she doesn't have time to react as the world before her eyes disappears, replaced by another.

_A sting stabs into the wolf's chest. She growls warningly at it before picking up her pace, her speed building. After a few strides, the sting returns. The wolf's teeth lash out, sinking into her fur. She tears away at her coat, spitting and snuffing madly. The wolf huffs, her breath sending the tiny pieces of fur scattering in different directions._

_As the wolf moves forward, the sting strikes her heart. She howls viciously and ducks her head. The movement brings a wave of fire over the wolf's body. Her paws slash through the snow as she tries to tame the fire, her teeth flashing and snapping blindly._

_One swing of her paw shifts all the wolf's weight to one side. She loses her balance and topples head first into the ground, sending up a cloud of powdery snow. The wolf's body collapses, her bones shifting and changing, her body jerking violently in the flames._

_Once the snow clears, the wolf blows all the snow from her nostrils. She lets out a low rumble, carefully pulling her forelegs to her, starting to stand. But her legs aren't there. Bewildered, the wolf gazes blankly at the copper skin lining her forelegs. Her breath comes in trembling heaves. The wolf starts to snarl, but the sound catches in her throat. Out of nowhere, her forelegs stretch out again, bursting back into her white fur. The wolf's body twists and tremors until the flames return, smoldering through her changing form._

_Not wasting a second, the wolf jumps to her paws again. Steadying herself, she snorts and throws herself forward, bursting into a sprint._

_The wolf is not a creature, a predator, or a being. She's broken, twisted beyond repair._

An eerie shimmer rings in the back of the wolf's mind, disrupting her memory. The white wolf's body heat flares, her paws tearing into the ground below her as she slows. The feeling of another's presence causes her thoughts to sharpen, becoming dangerously aware of her surroundings. Even though the woods are empty, the wolf is no longer alone.

The wolf senses this. She throws her weight around, her body preparing to destroy whatever is behind her. But as she lunges, her paws meet thin air. The wolf lands with a snuff and glances around, her head throbbing. She paces backwards, hot ash biting the pads of her paws. The wolf snuffs and shifts her stance, only to freeze as another vision envelops her.

_Tiny, frozen crystals drift out of the sky, illuminating the pale night. The wolf's paws are hidden underneath thick layers of snow, her legs braced as the white surface breaks around her steps. Her body is lowered, her ears pricked and gaze focused on the huddled circle of wolves just yards before her._

_The small pack has yet to notice the approaching threat. The white wolf stays still as the risen moon, unnoticed. The pack's careless teeth rip and tear, wearing away at the blood-stained snow beneath them. A muted growl rumbles through them as the smaller members of the pack creep forward, trying to snag a piece of the kill. Ankles lock deep in the snow; ruffs tremble with the cold and excitement. It's not long before the endless pushing and pulling sparks desperation and the wolves erupt into a frenzy. A scarlet sea seeps out from the huddled bodies, blooming out on to the snow._

_With a sudden shock of plummeting temperatures, prey has become scarce. The light in the sky remains dim and the last bits of warmth have drained away into the pale, worthless ball in the sky. The only movement in the winter-damned landscape is the promise of more fluffy crystals to float down from the sky each day._

_The white wolf continues to statute herself in the snow, her dark blue gaze frozen on the pack. Eventually, the snarls fade and the pack slowly pulls apart, revealing the remaining mangled lumps of flesh. The patient wolves are quick to pounce on the bits, snatching them up and growling as they drag them away, frantically gnawing at their possessions as if they can't get enough as quickly as they need it._

_One wolf in particular, turning to go off with a full belly, notices the white wolf. She raises her head, her ears flattening as her teeth bare with a crackling snarl. She sails over a wolf in front of her and lands hard in the snow, her body swift and thin. The wolf stares at the white shape of the threat, letting out a low stream of growls at the intruder until another joins her._

_His shoulder is higher than hers, his black muzzle flecked with grey. The male wolf sizes the strange white wolf up, his tail raising as if to show he has power over her. The female at his side backs him up with a flash of yellowing teeth._

_The white wolf glares down at them, raising her body to its full height. Her lip curls back to show her dripping jaws, snarls spitting out of her muzzle. She pushes herself into an exaggerated advantage, rumbling as the wolves cower under her might._

_Proud and strong, the white wolf leans forward, her eyes fixing on the puny challenges before her. They both snap their teeth at her, their knees bending as they contemplate escape. The white wolf tosses her head and lets an echoing howl roll from her mouth. She snaps her teeth, shakes her head and begins her advance._

_Behind her, the group of shuddering black wolves exchange a low growl. The male wolf breaks his focus long enough to swish his tail and bark sharply. As if on cue, the other wolves retreat into the shadows, their glowing eyes melting away into nothing._

_The white wolf snuffs once, sending a dust of snow rushing over the ground. The two wolves lock gazes with her, their bodies lowered and their ears flattened. The male lets one more warning growl through his teeth. The white wolf stares at him, then moves her gaze to his female companion, her gaze steady. The female heaves a sickly wheeze, swaying._

_Something about the black wolves' stances triggers a sudden instinct for self-defense in the white wolf. She launches_ _**herself** _ _forward, crashing into the crazed she-wolf. The white wolf's weight and power send the wolf tumbling, her breath leaving her body in a yelp. Bones crack and blood spews out on impact._

_As the white wolf begins to burn, a voice pierces her skull. She can't comprehend the words, but the voice speaks boldly in her mind, echoing as the she-wolf kicks and claws her body free, dragging herself out from beneath the attacking white wolf._

_"We descend from them," the voice booms, the tone faint as if it is only the ghost of another memory. "The wolves are our own brethren and we shall treat them as such. No man may harm the wolf and any man who shall choose to disobey this law may be penalized with death."_

_The white wolf shakes her head violently, removing the voices as the she-wolf swiftly limps away. The male trots after her, pausing only to glance over his shoulder, raise his head, and growl softly. The white wolf holds her ground, victorious, the blood of another staining her muzzle._

Disoriented, the wolf swings her head and lurches, the images fading. Snow huffs out of her muzzle as the images bombard her. First a flicker, then the images flash like crazy. The world spins at an impossible speed. She lunges in an attempt to attack the being inflicting this trick on her, but it's useless. Once again, the world disappears around her.

_Free—the wolf is free._

_The wolf's paws thud to the ground, finding it with ease, her body balancing perfectly despite her size and weight. Her paws press into the cool, smooth soil, testing it. A moment later, she is off again. The wind sings in her ears. Scents dance in her nostrils while the hands of the fresh air comb through her fur. Paws light as wind, the wolf rockets through the forest, miles disappearing behind her._

_She races on until she senses a disturbance in the beauty. The wolf halts, bristling. Her head swings from side to side until she sees it. Her eyes lock on the brush as it is clawed aside._

_Seconds later, a woman as white as snow bursts through the brush. She hisses a sharp, menacing warning, baring her bloody teeth. The wolf's eyes close for a mere heartbeat as she blinks, a snarl starting to rise in her throat._

As she does, the golden wood collapses, and once again, the wolf stands alone under the inky winter sky, prisoner to the cold.

These are only the acts of a wolf acting through instinct. Her opponents are murderers in her eyes. Dozens and dozens of miles of traveling lay beneath her paws, though she never strays from the secluded shadows of black forests. Eventually, she's all but become a part of the forest itself. The wolf is the forest's darkness. She is the predator, prowling and slaughtering every Cold One stalking through the shadows.

The wolf only travels, kills and sleeps. Yet she isn't an animal.

As the thought strikes the wolf, she starts to change. She is still there, with fur and paws and teeth. It's the animal within her that changes, melting away like the ice trickling from the tips of branches. The animal continues to shrink until the true identity of the wolf rises.

The wolf is Jordan, Jordan Uley. She is the small girl who moved to the Quileute reservation when she was three, known as the quiet girl with the weight of a troubling secret on her shoulders. However, the girl isn't so small and quiet. She's deadly now, driven by the roar of fury that pulses through her veins, just as real blood inside her.

 _Jordan._  Sam's low mumble suddenly bursts into my head, cracking through the break in my control.

My wolfish body shifts as my mind starts to work again, the wolf inside me straining. I search Sam's mind for any hint of smugness, slowly starting to boil. How the hell has he gotten through to me? I'm supposed to be unreachable and they've long since agreed to pretend that I've died. My teeth flash and I swing my head, trying to shake him from my mind as my thoughts warp and stretch.

_God damn it! Get outta here!_

_What are you doing?_  Sam's voice continues to speak clearly in my mind, ignoring my prudent thoughts. I can feel him poking around in my head. The sensation sends a spasm of heat through my muscles.

My head pounds as I struggle to speak. I dig my claws into the ground below me, shifting my stance. I have to close my eyes and think hard for a moment as the words form in my mind.

_What . . . we're . . . made for._

My eyes flash open. Darkness still washes over the snow, breezes whistling through the treetops. My legs shift as I elevate myself. After being in the wilderness for so long, it's become natural to stay on guard. One tiny lapse in focus could result in the ultimate consequence.

 _You've been gone far too long. Two and a half years, actually. A lot has changed, and we need you now._ Sam's words come slower as his own eyes study the black forest around him.

I allow my paws to move, swiftly and silently moving across the snow.  _Well, fuck. Guess that means I gotta come wipe ass for the rest of you now, doesn't it?_

Sam flinches internally, but he ignores my jab. Images of a plain, brown-eyed girl roll through his head. They fade off into another image of a leech, most likely another saint-like Cullen, perched in a tree across the river as he studies the forest.  _There's a girl by the name of Bella Swan. She's caused trouble, mostly for Jacob, but it's affecting the rest of us as well. Bella has developed a romance with a Cullen and their relationship brings troubles with other vampires that have begun to threaten the tribe._

 _She dumped Jacob for a leech?_  I snort.  _I've sure missed a hell of a lot of fun._

 _No._  Sam sighs.  _That part doesn't matter. The real issue has to deal with vampires._

Sam's mind expands with the growth of another image. At first, I can only see a flicker of red in the forest, somewhat like a fire. The image stretches and comes to life in his mind as he forms the memory. It's soon clear that the flicker is actually hair, whipping around in the winds of inhuman speed. Air rushes by as Sam sprints through the forest, his gaze focusing on the smear of white and red. As I get more into the memory, the smear sharpens into a figure. The pale white skin and feral expression instantly give away the reason the figure is there, running. It's a parasite.

The image shatters a moment later. Sam speaks in my mind again, his tone deep and his concern unmasked.  _The same vampire has been chasing after Bella Swan for a while. We've tried to catch her, but we just haven't been able to. Bella and Cullen left for the weekend, and the rest of the family have warned us that the vampire will be returning and there could be others with it. I really need you to come back home, so we can ca—_

 _It's a trap._ My thought cut Sam's short.

Sam falls silent, only showing the still forest around him. He hesitates for a moment.  _Why would you think that?_

My eyes narrow.  _The clan of leeches, although oh-so-superior to the likes of us, suddenly has decided that it's worth it to ask for help while they're short one member, just to protect their lunch._  I spit through my muzzle, snarling. _What the hell do you think that the leech is gonna do while he's gone? Romantically suck the life out of her? To hell with that! If I'm gonna come back, we might as well take out the whole damn lot of them!_

 _You could be right. But you're not_. Sam shakes his coat, beginning to tone hardens, taking on that commanding edge. _As alpha, this is my decision. As alpha, I will order you to return if I must._

My paws crush through the snow, a gust of breath whistling through my teeth.  _And what's next? Force me to bow down to you, then sell me off as the sucker den's lap dog?_

Sam growls lowly, the sound thick with frustration. _I've raised you for thirteen years—you know I wouldn't do that. I know you've been through a lot. I know you think you're doing the right thing, but this isn't normal. You're very different from your sister—_

I bark out a rough, humorless laugh.  _Don't even try to give me that speech. I'm not gonna even think about taking tips from that bitch. What happened to your little princess, anyway?_

_Don't make me—_

A snarl rips through my muzzle.  _What is there to be proud of there? We're here to kill off parasites, and I'm doing my part without causing any shit. And what's there left over there? A group of kitties on your toes just to save a leech-loving piss-ant? Toss her right into the fangs of her 'sucker and end of all your issues the easy way!_

 _Jordan, that's enough!_ Sam roars. I try to raise my snarls above his tone, but the command of the alpha drowns it out.  _You_  will  _return home tonight! You_ will  _chase this vampire with your pack. You_ will  _do this, and that is final!_

Sam heaves a shuddering breath as his thoughts trail off. Silence wedges between us, causing my mind to shimmer with a static emptiness. I listen to his heavy breathing, my shoulders quivering with suppressed rage as the weight of his command wrestles with my free will, suffocating it.

When Sam finally breaks the silence, his tone has softened. The forest around him swirls as he turns, facing the river.  _Just . . . please come back. If not for your family, then just to do what must be done._

His words open a craving inside me. A tug of desire lurches in my stomach, but I don't form an answer. My thoughts are shifting and planning. Soon, this parasite will be dead. If there isn't a threat, the Cullens are bound to relax. I pull up another's thought buried deep in my memory—the dimpled grin of the large, muscular Cullen as he strolls along, completely at ease.

If I go back, the whole flock of them will be gathered. If I help the pack slaughter the threat, the rest of them will let down the guard. If I time my attack, they won't even know what hit them.

Brilliant.

As my whirling thoughts settle, an eerie shimmer announces another's presence. My mind is shocked with a stab of irritation as familiar whine sounds over the pack link.

_Hey, Sam, do you know where—Oh, wonderful. Nice of you to finally join us, Jordan._

I exhale slowly, groaning through my teeth. I watch through Sam's mind as Nicole's silver body pads along the bank of the river, her lip curled in disgust. She raises her gaze to meet Sam's gaze, her icy eyes piercing through his sight and into mine.

_Nice to know you still haven't pulled that stick outta your ass._

Nicole huffs, turning away from Sam's view.  _Quite the heart-warming greeting. I see you still hold on to that delightful jealousy of yours._

 _That's what they call it now?_  I shake my coat, struggling to hold myself back.  _To hell with this. I don't need any more shit._

 _No! Stop that!_ Sam turns on Nicole with a rumble, his hackles raised.  _We need your help, Jordan._

Nicole sighs, though she lowers her head slightly. _If she wants to leave, then she obviously won't be any help. Just let her go._

Her words strike a challenge. I wheel back around, my paws lashing out and raking deep grooves through the empty snow, growls tearing through my torso.  _I'll be there in a few hours, Sam._

I twist around, galloping away from the smeared ash. My pace builds before climaxing into a sprint, my body racing through the raw landscape like a wind set on fire.

Sam grunts and nods, clearly satisfied.  _The front door will be unlocked._

With a final glance, Sam dips into the brush, his mind fading away.

 _Oh joy._  Nicole mutters. She pauses for a moment, her mind focusing in on the forest around her once more.  _See ya, sister._

My muscles relax, easing up as I find myself alone once more with just the whispers of the wind to keep me company. My body stretches as I push myself faster and faster, a blur of raw speed and strength **.** I shoot through the forest, the sound of snow crackling under my powerful paws blending with the whipping winds of my speed.

The voice of the wolf inside of me still murmurs for me to go; to retreat into the shadows and never be seen again. But I know better than to listen—this is a challenge, and I won't show weakness.

As my mind and body race, one thought overrides all else: The Cullens better be ready to die a very slow and painful Jordan Uley-style death.


	22. Back to Hell

_"Get ready, cause here I come."_ \- Rare Earth.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Two

Back to Hell

* * *

Lightning cracks behind me, igniting the sky with a fiery white flash. Rain pelts down in sharp, icy bullets, unable to penetrate my thick coat. I fly through the forest, a white streak of speed against the green. I move with raw strength, completely unstoppable.

The scents of the reservation fill my nostrils. The familiarity triggers forbidden memories, both good and bad. The steady pull of breath down my throat stutters as my thoughts interrupt my instincts. This irritates me like a leech that wont burn. No matter how hard I try to force my thoughts in one direction, they always drift back to the thoughts of the wolf, pounding in my head as both sides of me fight for dominance.

Hell, this better be pretty damn important. There's no reason for me to return—I'm a killer, not a protector. I won't take any shit, especially when it can lead to ripped off faces and rearranged skeletons.  _Focus, damn it._

I nod once, responding to the little voice in my head.

My paws rise and fall, their rhythm dying as I slow. I spread my legs out to balance my weight. My paws press into the cold, thick mud, the heat of my skin melting it all into a goopy puddle. Naturally, my gaze flickers around before I lower my head to the ground.

The wolf inside me might be fading from my mind, but it is still very much in control of my body. My eyes shoot around the clearing again before reluctantly falling shut. I drag in breaths through my muzzle, focusing on the strong and steady  _thump, thump, thump_ ing of my heartbeat. The heat in my veins starts to stir as I will my body to shrink, drawing the heat of the wolf back into the center of my body.

At first, it seems as if nothing is happening, but then there's a twitch in my shoulder. It starts as just a tiny little (redundant) disturbance, but then it creeps up my spine, locking my jaw in place. The heat seeps from my being as the wolf thaws away. My body is soon shaking violently, tearing apart at the seams.

I blink my eyes and my body is suddenly alive with tiny pricks, shocked with energy. Energy shoots through my veins, my eyes clouding. My skin tingles, and my heart rate soars. For a moment, my body locks down, freezing me in place until my vision clears. I stare down at my hands, pressed deep into the mud. A grin spreads across my face. I can't say I don't want to do that again.

Cool, gentle rain drips over my exposed body, washing the rest of the wolf out of me. My breathing gradually returns to normal, my chest rising and falling evenly. The tremors subside and my body relaxes, finally settling down into its human form. I stare down at the mud puddle beneath me, watching the ripples spread across the water. I start to study my reflection, but I stop when I realize I have no clothes on.

 _Shit_. I can't help but think that if anybody is watching me, they're getting a kick out of this. Literally. I'll kick their asses into the middle of next week.

I drag in a long pull of icy air, clearing my head.  _Focus._ My hands and knees dig deep beneath the surface of the mud. I shift my weight, feeling the mud squish around my skin as it loosens. I slide my hands free of the muck and stand, snapping my wrist to rid it from the rest of the mud. I pull in another breath and glance around, my mind spinning. My eyes dart across the hard ground to the gloomy sky, trying to come up with some solution to my clothes issue. I slide a hand through my hair, exhaling again while watching my breath puff against the bark of a tree. I stare at my breath for a moment until it hits me.

The trees.

My hand flies up to the branch, grasping it firmly as I pull myself up. When the pack changes, we all put our clothes somewhere so we don't have to walk through the forest naked. The whole "tie it to a string around your leg" normally doesn't work for me. Paul and I always jam our clothes up in the tree branches so we don't have to worry about them later. Normally, I forget about the clothes and go right home. So, there should be at least a few trees out here with forgotten clothing in them. There better be.

I pat around the tree, my hand skimming across the wiry branches. The surface here is empty. I sigh and drop out of the tree, dangling for a moment while my gaze settles on another. My body swings back before launching forward. The cold air rushes across my body as I sail through the air before landing perched on a low branch. I step slowly around the tree, my hand brushing over the rough, wet surface until it meets something soft.

My shoulders drop. I start to pull the clothes out, my nose wrinkling at their scent. I can definitely tell they have been out here for a while; they smell like dirt and worms. I'm about to unfold the unmistakable grey shape of my favorite tank top when a tiny, furious figure shoots out from the clothes, whistling a long stream of angry sounds at me. There's a flash of white as it exposes its brilliant yellow underbelly and flaps its wings at me, its legs clawing at my face.

I growl once and snatch the bird in midair, tangling and twisting my fingers around its feathered neck. The bird instantly goes limp in my hands, its mouth dangling open. I drop the lifeless body to the ground, shaking my head as I slide on my underclothes and slip into my denim shorts and tank top. The clothes cover my skin well, fitting to my new height and muscle.

I drop out of the tree, falling through the air like a cannon off a ship before my paws touch the ground, immediately shifting into a crouch. I glance around, my gaze darting across the empty forest before I'm off again. My muscles still tremble from the change but my strength pulses through them, building speed. One toned, long leg gracefully stretches out before me, my toes making tiny imprints into the rain-soaked soil, and then the leg is gone, replaced by the other. The rhythm continues, not faltering as I nearly glide through the green, damp forest, powering through with supernatural strength.

Rain stings my skin tirelessly, the chill of each drop diving through my burning skin with a vicious, icy bite. The water splashes over the surface of my body, washing away all the grime gathered from life in the forest. The wind tickles my hairline, whooshing over me as I shoot straight through the powerful currents. My surroundings blur in smears of green and brown, all sharply defined now as trees and bushes. I can even see the crystals of rain on the bark of each tree, but I pay no attention to them.

I'm approaching a log of some sort when I start to pick up my pace. My sides expand and sink regularly with each breath, my body unfettered by the force of my speed. As I come closer, I notice the mossy covering of the tree and the weak, crumbling chunks of its bark sprinkled around it. By the looks of it, the tree crashed down during a heavy storm and still rests in the same position after decades. The tree is still a wall in my path, though, and I don't want to waste time climbing over it.

With my eyes trained on the fallen tree, I push myself to the limits of my speed. I lock my muscles into place as I near the tree and push off, lifting my knees up to my flat stomach. The wind whips my hair back; the rush of gravity loosening its hold sends a jolt of electricity into my veins. I take in a small whiff of the crisp scents around me before my feet press flat into the dirt of the other side. Another tree lay parallel to the one before it—I'm quick to lunge up again. My fingers wrap around a branch as I throw my body forward into the open rain. The rush comes again before I feel my feet meet the ground. I twist around, my foot dropping back as I swiftly tumble, shoulder first, onto the earth. My body flips over itself and then I'm suddenly up once more, pressed into a tree.

After a few seconds of marveling at the power of my body, I force myself back into focus. My breath enters and exits leisurely in a swirling mist, hovering in front of me before rushing away with the breeze. Without caution, I slip around the bark of a slick tree, the thick curtain of my hair tumbling over my eyes. Ignoring it, I scan the woods around me. I see nearly nothing, just the barren darkness of the early morning. The stillness isn't normal, but I'm not stupid enough to let my guard down. It's impossible for the forest hold a still silence without reason. There's something lurking here, something with enough power to hush all the natural life around it. Even the early morning songs of the birds have faded away. Whatever it is, it's close.

My eyes scan the area once more, this time more critically. It only takes a few moments for them to zero in on something different; this time, they find what I'm looking for.

Three wolves creep silently across the ravine in the distance, their stomachs brushing against the soggy ground, ears pricked and eyes darting around. I recognize their stances as a posture meant to keep their steps silent and senses alert.

Leading the patrol is Jacob. His russet fur, bright as a flame against the green vegetation, catches my eye the second he crawls over the hill. Two wolves flank him, one grey with dark spots, and the other chocolate brown with a lighter face. I know the first is Embry, but don't recognize the second; the pack seems to have grown in the time that I have been gone. The three of them cautiously creep in my direction, the alarmed gleam in their eyes giving away that they have know I'm here.

My head rolls back, my eyes staring straight up at the tangle of branches above me. I inhale a heavy but silent gust of crisp morning air, clearing my head. If I don't want them to find me, I have to be careful. Especially now, when any unwanted attention can send me on the verge of oblivion.

The musky scents of the wolves swirl in my nostrils, my sensitive skin catching the pulse of heat from the patrols' bodies as they come closer. Thinking fast, my hands shoot up, grasping a random branch from above my head. I smoothly lift my body up, my feet planting against the trunk of the tree. They shift on the slippery surface. I growl under my breath, hearing a rhythmic thud of paws; the patrol is approaching rapidly. I exhale softly, swinging my legs up and catching the branch in a straddle. Leaning my back into the tree, my muscles lock in place as I freeze on the spot.

A heartbeat later, the russet wolf slinks into place, his head bowing as his muzzle dips over the ground. My eyes narrow. I study him carefully, watching his nostrils flex as they take in my scent. Embry and the chocolate wolf stop behind him, their stances alert and straightened in full height, jaws parted slightly to taste the air. My fingers curl around a loose chunk of bark, ready to spring into action if necessary.

It takes a little circling until Jacob lifts his head slowly, a muffled, irritated rumble rising from his chest. His eyes sweep the lower part of the tree, looking to a point only a few feet beneath me. He glances back at the wolves flanking him, huffs, and then lunges forward, the darkness swallowing his form and only leaving behind a faint whiff of his scent. Embry and the chocolate wolf both glance warily in my direction before throwing themselves after Jacob.

I pause for a few moments longer, my head tipped to one side as I listen. The wind shudders through the branches and rain drips onto the ground, but there is no sound of heavy heartbeats or soft breathing of the wolves. I seem to be alone now. Out of my acquired caution, my eyes study the prints of paws in the mud, and then rest on the shadows. Nothing happens.

My fingers release their iron grip on the wood. I push up into a crouch, stepping into empty air in the same motion. My body drops like an anchor before landing perfectly erect just as my feet thump onto the damp ground.

I take another short breath, my gaze combing over the forest. Reassured by the silence, I nod to myself and set off at a steady pace. My mind pulls in the familiar area, my senses sorting out the sights, scents, and sounds of my surroundings. Light is slowly leaking through the treetops, announcing the nearing sunrise.

Out of nowhere, my legs thrust me forward into a sprint, the ravine blurring around me. The sight of the sunrise sends shudders through me, tearing open an eagerness to slip into the shade of cover. But if I get to the house early enough, nobody will be around.

I race through the forest, breaking through the tree line moments later. I charge toward the porch, my body clearing the steps in a single stride. I exhale slowly, unaffected by my speed, my hand reaching down to the doorknob. My fingers slide over the surface, testing it. A relief starts to rise on my face, but is broken as a familiar voice booms through the door.

Just my luck.

"Incoming!" Paul's voice bellows.

I step inside quickly, studying the room. Nothing has changed; the wooden walls and floors shine, the furniture is in place but slightly crooked, and the homey scent hangs in the air. Two russet figures rise out of their lazy postures and brush muffin crumbs off their cutoffs.

" _There_ she is!" The smaller of the two announces, spewing crumbs all over the floor.

My gaze settles on the reddish-brown skinned boy as he grins crookedly at me. The amusement shining in his brown eyes triggers a connection and I instantly recognize him as Jared. He reaches out and pats my shoulder, but never gets the chance. I strike instinctively, sending him stumbling back into the kitchen before he knows what hit him.

" _Whoa_. Someone's got their tail in a knot!" Jared scoffs while steadying himself.

Paul's grin doesn't falter, even at my aggressive outburst. He steps in Jared's place and grins down at me, somehow knowing better than to touch me. "Hey, stranger."

Paul isn't much different. His black hair is cropped, flopping over his eyes slightly. His muscles are rounded and his body is ripped, his eyes the same dark brown they always have been. He wears the same cocky, sloppy grin.

I study him, but don't find my voice. My throat is parched, a jumble of senseless words swirling uselessly in my head. I slant my eyes, studying the two of them. Instinctively, I need to sort out the threats from the weaknesses, and right now, these two men seem to be a little too at ease.

Paul's grin grows, seeming amused by my silence. "So, I hear you're like a real superwoman now."

"Yeah, like hall of fame worthy," Jared chimes in mockingly with another smirk.

I feel my brow furrow slightly. I shift my stance, glancing between the three of them, still so at ease and so close. The white gleam of Paul's bared teeth doesn't help.

"Miss Incredible!" Paul snickers to himself. "Come on, you can't  _seriously_ not know what I'm talking about."

My eyes flicker between them, searching for any signs of an advance. Heat flares inside of me, preparing my body for any challenge.

Jared snorts, oblivious. "You've only been gone for two years. And a half. Killing all those 'suckers…that was the shit! I'd pay  _anything_  to have gotten some of that action!"

Paul chuckles right along with him. "You were awesome, Jord, promise. We could still see your thoughts. All those leeches, all that traveling. . ."

"It was just awesome, I'll tell ya! The whole pack was impressed," Jared crows. "Even Sam, when he wasn't dragging his tail across the ground with pity."

I exhale sharply, the meaningless ring of their words empty in my ears. Paul leans back, watching me, his eyes attention centered on my mouth. A twinge of heat rises in my stomach, but I'm quick to duck through the kitchen door needing to sort out my thoughts.

Paul and Jared exchange a glance. Jared smirks and shrugs, his eyes catching the food on the table. He grins at me one last time before plopping down on a chair, his long body sprawling out while he picks up where he left off, scarfing down muffin after muffin. Paul folds his arms over his chest, watching me as if he actually expects me to not notice. I feel his eyes taking in my towering, slender form while he carefully studies the slight shift and flex of my muscles.

I open the door to the refrigerator, having to crouch down to look into it. My fingers graze through the food items, my gaze focused straight ahead. I catch his gaze and flash my teeth at him; a feral warning.

Paul's brow furrows for a moment before he chuckles. "Damn, didn't know it was illegal to look at a girl."

Jared's gaze flickers between us, his mouth bunched up as if he is trying hard not to laugh. His gaze settles on me, and he grins, revealing the crumbs stuck in his teeth. "Paul wants your panties."

Paul's body stiffens, his fists clenching and his head snapping over to glare at Jared. He growls lowly. "I never said that," he grumbles.

Jared raises his hands in surrender, leaning back in his chair. "Fine, fine." He grins slyly. "He'll take your bra instead."

The smug tone of his voice is infuriating. I shake my head slowly, lifting the water bottle up to my lips while taking a drink. As Jared studies me, I give him a sharp look that says "kiss my ass" without any words.

Jared snickers. "Oh, I'm sure Paul would  _love_  to."

With an infuriated huff, Paul's temper peaks. Filled with angry tremors, Paul suddenly lunges forward. He knocks the table over, his fist hammering into Jared's nose with an audible crunch. Jared flies back into the wall with the force, grunting on impact.

"Damn you, Paul!" Jared cracks his nose into place, a few droplets of blood trickling down his nose. He spits onto the tile floor and jumps up, launching himself at Paul.

Paul growls low again, raising his fists to swing at Jared again. As I see Jared lunge at Paul, instinct sets in. I step in between them, my shoulders intercepting Jared's lunge, my feet planted firmly so the force of his weight doesn't knock me over. One hand slaps against his chest, stopping him, while the other drives into his gut. The next thing he knows, Jared is on the floor with me standing over him, my foot pressed into his throat while my arms pin him down.

I growl lowly, a wordless, feral threat that starts in my throat and spills through my lips. My hand trembles with the strain of my grip and the sudden shot of fury that's filling up my veins. My breathing is steady and low as I lock gazes with Jared, my jaw set.

Jared's fingers catch my hand, air rasping from his mouth. His eyes are wide, mixed with both a gleam of fear and awe. "C-Can't b-bre-breathe!"

I press my fingers tighter, my body trembling and filled with heat. I'm ready to snap his neck just about now; my hand curves to the shape of his neck. My teeth chatter as the shaking spreads up my spine and through my shoulders. I can feel the pressure building in my wrist, the murderous monster rising inside myself…

Suddenly, the door behind us flies open. It crashes into the wall just as I snap up, moving away from Jared. My fingers flex and I shift into a defensive stance, my gaze locked on the hallway. Paul is by my side, tense and ready, just a moment later.

A growl rises in the back of my throat, my body heat flaring. Suddenly, Sam is there, standing before me, his jaw clenched as he stares at the blood smeared on the floor. His massive shoulders quiver as he glances between the three of us. His tone deep and demanding as he speaks. "What happened?"

Paul and I both make a point to turn our heads and glare at Jared, who sighs and hangs his head. "I was just kidding," he grumbles under his breath.

Sam sighs heavily, raking a hand through his hair. He looks Paul and Jared both in the eye. "You're up for patrol. Now. Both of you clean up this mess and get out. Let's go!"

Jared is quickly on his feet as Paul ducks back into the kitchen, setting the chairs back in place while mopping up the blood on the floor with a dishrag. Jared doesn't even glance at Paul and me as he shoulders the door, tearing his shirt over his head as he talks angrily to himself.

Paul, already done cleaning in a matter of seconds, hurls the wadded up rag onto the counter. He smirks as it lands in a perfect hanging position on the oven handle, but the grin disappears as Sam catches his eye. Paul frowns at Sam, shaking his head while heading back over to the door. "I'll be back around later."

Paul rips his shirt off, tossing it on the table as if to make his point. He flashes a smile in my direction before jogging after Jared. "Wait up!"

I stare after Paul for a moment, unsure of what just happened. Sam clears his throat, bringing me back to the moment. He leans against the corner of the wall, his hair plastered to his face from the rain. A small smile appears on his lips as he catches my gaze.

"You're gone for two  _years_ and you can't even give  _Dad_ a ' _hey_?'"

The words reach my ears, but don't process in my brain as I studying Sam's complexion, tensed by the unfamiliarity of his features. Is this Sam now?

Sam sighs and shakes his head slowly. "I missed you, sweetheart."

I take a moment to attempt to plaster something that might pass for a smile on my face. It doesn't work, though, and I end up only nodding in response. I don't really hear what he's saying; I'm too focused on the scent coming from the grey fabric of his shirt. He still carries the crisp scent of the forest, as usual, but underneath it is a thin layer of perfume. Even through the heavy barriers of my wolf mind, I can remember hearing of Sam and Leah's split. If they split, then why does Sam smell like perfume? My fingers curl into my palm, the thought triggering instant suspicion.

"You're really needed around here, Jordan," Sam continues. "Your family needs you."

I nod while my mind sifts through who the perfume could belong to. My eyes narrow slightly, as it doesn't match with any of the faces in my memory.

Sam seems to catch the hint. He smiles half-heartedly and nods once. "We'll talk later."

With that, he steps into the other room, disappearing and leaving me alone. The wolves are all out on patrol. Sam is cleaning up. Nobody else is around but me, standing here, wondering where the hell is the fun.

I exhale slowly, starting to turn around and head back out the door, when a gleam in the living room catches my eye. I pause for a moment before whirling around, finding myself standing before a mirror on the wall. The mirror itself isn't anything special; just a regular slab of glass framed and placed on the wall. The girl staring back at me is what catches my eye.

"Girl" isn't the right word for this image; she isn't much of a girl anymore. Her skin is smooth and her face has matured; slim and set, all of her features are even. She glares coldly back at me, her dark blue eyes big but narrow, and filled with a sort of fire that I can't really explain. Her eyes are sinking, seeming to disappear into empty, dark circles. The skin on her face is russet and soft at first glance, but clearly toughened and covered with an assortment of dirt patches. The lips of the woman are well proportioned and her teeth show brightly when the lips pull back. Her strange version of what might be a smile is beautiful, but dark and taunting at the same time. It's almost mysterious and even seductive.

A laugh in the background causes me to lock up all over again. My head snaps back, expecting to find someone watching me. The doorway is empty. Another laugh echoes softly down the hall. I scowl at the sound of it; high-pitched and soft, nearly a giggle. I remember the scent of perfume on Sam's shirt and instantly put two and two together.

Some little whore's going after Sam.

I pace down the hall, my fingers tight in my palm and fierce determination in my step. I place a hand on the corner and peer around it, not caring if I'm spotted. What I see sets off instant suspicion.

Sam stands in the middle of the living room with his arms locked around the waist of a woman I have never seen before. He leans down to kiss her hair, chuckling softly as if they are in the middle of sharing a joke. I study the woman with skeptical eyes, a growl building in my throat.

The woman isn't exactly  _ugly_. Her skin is copper and clear, matching her chocolate eyes and glossy black hair. The woman's teeth shine brightly against her lips as she stares up at Sam. She is kind of plain, I think, until I see her scars. Three deep, long, bumpy scars run down the right side of her face, pulling the corner of her lip at a weird angle. The scars pop out of her skin but are still pink and shiny, meaning that they aren't very new. I can only think of two things those scars could have come from: a Makah attack, or another wolf.

I continue to stare at the woman, my lip raising in disgust, until the boom of the door crashing into the wall distracts me. I slip around the corner just as Sam and Emily raise their heads, smoothly stepping back out the other end of the hall just as Embry and Quil pile into the house, both of them scrambling for the kitchen.

"Finally!" Embry sighs heavily.

"Patrols suck!" Quil huffs and plops down in the chair that Jared occupied while stuffing a muffin into his mouth. He pauses as Embry sits next to him, sniffing the air while looking at Embry. "Dude, do you smell blood?"

I feel my teeth rub together, watching them from the corner. Suddenly, there's a jab in my side. I clench my jaw and look back to see Jacob leaning against the wall, grinning at me. "Hey."

If Jacob didn't carry the same scent as he has all his life, I wouldn't recognize him. He had shot up to stand at least at six feet, filling out with biceps that bulge out of his shirt sleeves. His hair is cropped with bangs that slightly spike out over his forehead. Of course, his skin is still the same russet tone and his hair is still the same raven black, but his face is much more matured and his voice is so much deeper.

Jacob's smirk grows slightly as he takes in my silence. "So, you've finally come out of hiding?"

I lean against the wall, raising an eyebrow. I hold my breath, silencing instinct as it urges me to defend myself. I swallow once, and then push my thoughts through my lips. It takes effort, and they come out quieter than expected, but I still manage to spit them out.

"We aren't all so ecstatic about the fun you find in kissing leech-loving ass."

Jacob sighs slightly, shaking his head. "Bella isn't just some human, Jordan. I have to get her away from this leech so you can see that for yourself, but it's hard 'cause she's like a parasite magnet. The leech left her and I guess that brought her out of the clouds, so it's time for me to make my move. Nicole won't even look at me anymore, anyway, so I could use a friend."

I don't answer. My gaze is naturally distracted by a sudden movement—Embry and Quil tossing muffins into each other's mouths.

"Figures," Jacob mumbles to himself. "So you've met Emily?"

I take a minute to form words, than another to push my response through my lips. "Should I want to?"

Jacob clears his throat. "Emily. Sam's, uh, with her now. You missed all the action. It was like a scandal."

My other eyebrow raises. Jacob proceeds to explain, not waiting for words.

"Yeah, pretty much." Jacob's expression suddenly hardens, his arms folding tightly over his chest as his eyebrows scrunch, taking the joking out of his expression. "Sam imprinted on Emily. She came down from the Makah Rez just a little while ago. All it took was her to bump into him and him to look her in the eye, and then boom, he was a goner."

I curl my fingers into my palm, my mind whirring, scattering into a million places at once. "Imprinted?"

"Imprinting: the claim a wolf has after meeting the eye of his other half." Jacob snorts. "Imprinting is just where you look into the eye of your 'soul mate' and then, suddenly, nothing else matters. It's just her—or if a lady wolf imprinted, him, I guess—and nothing else is ever as important. You would just do anything, or be anyone, for that person." Jacob pauses for a moment. "But it's rare, and Sam is the only one so far."

I take this in for a moment, holding Jacob's gaze steadily. My eyes slant. "Leah?"

"Got dumped. Sam didn't want to lie to Leah, so he decided to break it off." Jacob frowns. "What  _really_  makes this bad is that Emily is Leah's cousin."

My lip curls back over my teeth in disgust. This woman hasn't only screwed over the love life of her family, but she is from the Makah Rez? A twinge of fury stirs inside me, and I have to clench my hands tighter to. Jacob frowns, his expression puckering.

"Yeah, Leah's not doing too well. She's really harpy and doesn't come around much anymore. Harry died just a little while ago. The papers claim it was a heart attack, but the pack knows better. Harry was out with Charlie—Charlie Swan, Bella's dad—as he was escorting him through the woods on our land. Forks has had reports of giant wolves, and they blamed all the bloodsucker killings on us. Harry wandered off on his own, and then Charlie found him on the ground, his heart failing and all that. The pack checked it out and the red haired leech's scent was so strong, we were all nearly sick." Jacob pauses to grimace.

"But I guess the thing going on with that red haired leech after Bella is just a small part of it. Leah phased when she was arguing with Sue; she, like,  _murdered_  their whole freakin' couch. Seth was so shocked, he phased right after he saw her. Quil just did the other day, too, and he's as proud as can be." Jacob chuckles as he says this. "With all these new wolves, thoughts are pretty loud and uncontrolled. Especially Leah's, but she purposely brings up bad thoughts just to make things worse for all of us."

"Fun," I respond blandly, though I feel like I might puke out my guts any second now.

Jacob gives a throaty chuckle, nodding his head. We're both silent until another thought rises in my mind and makes its way to my tongue.

"Shit, don't tell me you've imprinted on the parasite's pet."

Jacob laughs openly at my question. "You think I  _imprinted_?" His expression twists. "Hell no." He nods his head down the hall, gesturing to where Sam and Emily are still at, probably too wrapped up into each other to notice that they have company. Or care.

"I'm sure you've seen them. All giddy, with the distant looks in their eyes. They don't even see the world anymore." He shakes his head slowly. "I don't wanna ever lose myself like that, just so I can bend to the needs of one person." Jacob looks me dead in the eye, his gaze full of suspicion. "You know what I mean, right?"

I don't want to debate it, so I simply shrug, brushing off his attention. My skin is crawling with heat and I can almost feel the darkening of my eyes.

Jacob's brow furrows defensively. "I've known her forever. We grew up together in the summers, making mud pies on the beach…wait, why do you wanna know?"

My muscles start to tighten defensively at what's almost a challenging tone, and I shoot Jacob a look. "What was that?"

Jacob blinks, his expression twisting. "You okay?"

I clench my jaw and breathe steam through my flared nostrils. I can't say anything else right now as my mind tumbles and spins, slipping farther and farther away. To Jacob's luck, Sam and his bitch-thing decide to cut in then. Embry and Quil are too busy raiding the refrigerator to notice, and Jacob doesn't seem to take any mind, but I know better than to meet that woman in Sam's presence.

"Patrol," I say suddenly, barely masking the fierce need beneath me.

Jacob shrugs and rubs the back of his neck as he pushes off the wall. "Okay. Then we'd better get going. Paul will be out, and maybe Nicole will come around too and we can do something."

With a nod, I hurriedly throw the door open just as Sam and Emily round the corner. I'm quick to swing my legs over the rail and get out of there. Jacob stretches his arms out and yawns as he follows slowly, knowing this will irritate me. "If things start to get too rough, I'm out. Bella is coming around later, if her leech will let her, and I don't wanna smell like muck."

"You won't have anything to worry about, unless you bring her in a ten mile radius. Then, I'll have no excuse not to string up your sorry asses up and butcher the idiocy right out."

My words are just enough to cause Jacob to stop in his tracks. I lengthen my stride, tearing through the wall of brush between me and my freedom. With a snarl, I combust on the spot as I release my wolf, expelling the pent-up river of anger and frustration.

Charged with a newfound relief, I kick off the wet ground and sprint into the forest, leaving Jacob behind. Even as my pawsteps turn in to miles of space, I still feel Jacob's startled stare burning into the back of my neck.


	23. Suffocate

_"I'm a beast, I'm an animal, I'm that monster in the mirror."_  - Usher.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Three

Suffocate

* * *

My fingers clench the countertop. The sharp edges press into my palm, but I ignore them. My eyes set on the mirror, watching a woman—a stranger—stare back at me.

The woman's dark eyes are distant, nearly sunken. The light has been completely drained from them, leaving her dark blue irises to shadow her pupil, appearing just a shade lighter. She is a grown person, by the look of it, just a few years over twenty. The makeup applied to her face brings out her striking features, adding a dangerous tone to her expression. She wears a torn, short dress that barely covers her thighs, the color matching the black, tousled locks of her hair.

I am this woman. We are dark, silent, mysterious, and alluring. I am a different person on the surface, although beneath it I am still the same young girl, falling deeper and deeper away from reality. I am a stranger.

Cracks burst across the counter as my grip tightens. The strain of my trembling fingers is breaking it. I can't help it, though, as the struggle of waiting prods my temper. I watch the small, white object placed over the sink in the corner of my eye as it thinks, processing.

"Uley! Hurry up! What's taking so damn long?"

A snarl passes through my clenched teeth. I shake my head, brushing off the impatient voice outside my window. I drag a deep breath through my nose before my hand snatches the object from the counter. My eyes lock on the single mark.

Negative.

My fingers crush the test to bits. I don't hesitate anymore. My elbow connects with the door, busting it open. I let out a large breath, duck through the window, and don't look back.

()()()

Shortly after my return, I begin to fall into the forbidden places of my mind, opening them further and further with every passing moment. Every human emotion and memory rushes back to me at random instances, knocking me into a round of fury that can't possibly be sane. The monster isn't used to having to share a mind and it sure as hell doesn't like it.

I don't bend, though, because giving in wouldn't be only weak, but a dumbass route leading straight into a hotter hell.

I have to stay. Hell, it is hard, but once I have my mind set, there's no changing it. Even as the monster chomps at the bit, begging for release, I hold my ground. The pack can sense that something's off. They keep a wary distance, never coming close. Even Paul keeps a distance, averting his uneasy stare whenever I catch him looking. The space slowly suffocates me.

Space equals quiet. Quiet equals lots of thinking. Lots of thinking equals a whole new magnitude of shit and struggle.

As the usual violent methods of escape fail and I find myself burning even more than before, alcohol becomes my peace. Alcohol, it gives me nothing but colors. No memories, no feeling. Just hues of red, blue, and purple. The pack never sees me drunk; I won't bother to cause a riot with that. Only one other wolf knows about all of this.

On the fourth day after my arrival, Leah invites me out to the cliffs. The sudden attention is suspicious, but I find it better to take her offer than to blow her off and end up with another bitching wolf on my tail.

When I get there, Leah introduces me to a new game. Once the patrols are over, we smuggle alcohol out from the Clearwater home, head out to the cliffs, and allow the salty breeze and the burns in our throats to take us away. I join her, needing nothing more than to feel. We stay together, with her legs dangling over the edge of the cliff and me crouched on the very edge, muttering about the stupidest things until we can't form words anymore.

As time passes, our game dulls in effectiveness and we have to step it up a notch. Our veins burn out the alcohol, washing out its effect. Leah becomes disoriented, masking it only with a whole new level of bitterness, while I feel my monster stretching, filling in the holes of absent feeling inside of me.

It isn't much longer until we decide to form a new plan. At sundown on the third day of each week, I find the keys to Sam's truck, drive to the Clearwater house, and take the highway up to Seattle. Our new little game becomes habit. Something like the lost bitch version of a girls' night out.

There's a nice place on the outskirts of Seattle. The music alone is a therapy; the pounding beats trap my soul and bring me out of the earth. In between the music and alcohol, I find a new escape through the movements of my body that earn the hungry, waiting stares of various opportunities.

Tonight's nothing new. Sam excuses our patrol and the pack disperses quickly. I'm already a good distance away from the rest. I sprint off through a few roads, waiting until the final mind fades into silence before falling into my human skin and heading straight for Leah's.

The club is full when we get there, but it's not my time. I stand in the shadowed corners, the glass in my hand empty. Leah leans heavily against the wall, her body swaying as she struggles to hold herself upright. I snort at the sight of her, my eyes trained on the motion of the expanding crowd.

"Hey, J. I, I uh, need a . . . a drink. Or, or two," Leah slurs. She slaps a hand against the wall, panting heavily.

I shake my head slowly without moving my stare. "God damn, Leah. You're wasted."

Leah throws her head back, spreading her arms against the wall as she laughs. "No! I'm not, not really! No!"

I hum low in my throat, turning my empty glass in my fingers. "If you say so."

"What. . . Whatever. You're the one who's . . . who's missing out. Big, big time!" Leah drops her arms, taking a step toward the crowd. She grins like a fool before starting into it, casting a final look my way. "See ya, uh, later, hater!"

With that, I watch Leah stumble her way into the crowd of closely packed bodies, nearly tackling mingling couples as she tries to make her way. I breathe out a hot breath, flexing my fingers. Now is not my time.

My eyes find the dance floor again and I study the people; a hunter measuring the awareness of her unsuspecting prey. Their movements are human—sloppy and nearly careless, unable to follow the pounding beat. My body heat strains near its peak, my pulse speeding with the rhythm of the music that thunders through my bones. I brace my feet on the cool floor, forcing myself to wait for the right moment.

It might have been seconds, or maybe even hours, but eventually, the sound of the DJ's voice breaks over the thump of music and the crowd parts, inviting all those up for a challenge on to the floor. The music stutters before blaring again as both men and women enter the center of the crowd, all fighting to get in the center as the spotlight makes its way around.

A twisted smirk curls on my lips. I open my hand and my glass tumbles, breaking over the ground in a thousand bits of shattering ice. I slip into the sea of people, making my way to the center of the floor. The nerve of my action earns me many aggravated glances, but each man and woman steps aside as they look up to see my face, their expressions paling. The last line of people make way for me just as the lights go dead and the black lights blare, adding the final edge.

Now's my time.

My style is different than the others. My movements are carefully planned yet made in an instant, following the patterns of years and years of deadly dances. It attracts, stuns, and frightens all at once. Some of the men hurry away as they notice me. Others stop, stare, and prowl at a distance while they wait for their chance. Either way, it doesn't matter, because the movements of my style always sends common sense on a trip down south.

Tonight, I draw in a small crowd. I move with the balance and skill of someone with experience, my body working with a fighter's limitless movements, but a vicious strength that arouses the stink of fear. Fighting and dancing are both lethal, in different yet exactly the same ways. They're both sinfully wrong, yet so satisfyingly right.

There isn't any time to consider. Once I'm in, there's no going back.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as my moment nears. Bodies move in sync, all trapped in the same beat. I can feel myself already getting pulled in, my control slipping away. The spotlight's coming closer, brushing my skin, but I'm already moving. I can feel the white light hit me, blinding but intoxicating as it captures my movements, bringing me out; a spot of crimson on a sheet of grey. Many pairs of eyes are glued to my body, trailing lower as they study my movements. The second the spotlight slips away, a pair of hands grab me, claiming me, pulling me into another world.

In just a few seconds, everything is physical. The music infects me, running beneath my skin and tearing me apart. My partner is my shadow, following my lead. His hands trace the shape of my body, moving slowly as if they like what they find. Eventually, the tension of his body becomes too much and his movements cease. A hand catches my wrist, guiding me away from any curious eyes.

The night blurs away. My body feels fuzzy from the dull burn of the fading adrenaline. My body is trapped in the hypnotizing pulse of music, sucking away importance and meaning. My partner never leaves, staying with me while somehow keeping up with my pace; touching, holding, groaning. Gradually, the world fades away.

Time zips by. It seems like the music only grows louder and the bodies around me are only getting closer.

Closer.

Closer.

 _Closer_.

Eventually, my blood starts to boil. I can prominently feel my heart hammering in the cage of my chest. The wolf in me rises, struggling for dominance. My control is slipping.

Slipping.

Slipping.

 _Slipping_.

One word forms in my scattered mind: feel. I've come here to feel and if I don't feel soon, I'll lose my head. I murmur sweet words into my partner's ear, luring him through the crowd once more. The flashing lights blur my vision as my temperature rockets. I charge through the crowd of closely packed bodies, the world around me closing in. The air is suddenly too thick and humid. Everything is so  _hot_.

Hotter.

Hotter.

 _Hotter_.

When I finally make it through the crowds toward the back, I face two identical doors. Both of the doors are crowned with blinking emergency exit signs. I blink once and growl under my breath, shaking my head to clear it. My fist draws back, strength surging through my muscles. The door looks fuzzy as it sways from side to side, but I can still picture it exploding into millions of slivers of wood on contact. My lips pull back, my arm just about to fire forward when a sure, steady hand catches my fist.

"Hey, sweetheart," a masculine voice whispers. "Just where are you going?"

The closeness of another's body triggers another ripple of heat. I launch myself back around, moving with impossible speed. The man's eyes bulge as I suddenly have him pinned to the wall, his arm awkwardly twisted behind his head while my forearm blocks his airways. I hold the man there, his feet dangling above the ground, studying his face with skeptical eyes.

By just a glance, there's nothing unusual about him. His features are soft with the recent passing of youth, his style unique, his eyes an alluring shade of hazel. My senses stretch through the natural, though. The sharp scent of alcohol taints his breath. His eyes are glazed and bloodshot, and there's something not right about the angle of his crooked smile. I narrow my eyes, my lip curling back over my teeth as I am struck with recognition.

My partner is no stranger—he's a forgotten night catching up with me.

I shake my head, wordlessly expressing my disgust. I release him and he falls, stumbling over the ground, his mouth moving in silent laughter. I exhale sharply again and spin around, sending the door clean off its hinges. I watch it explode against the alley wall as I slip outside the club and into the shadowed alley.

The night air greets me kindly, covering my skin in a thin, cooling layer. I breathe it in, allowing it to soothe my buzzing senses. I blink away the flashes of lights, leaning my back against the rough, bumpy surface of the wall. I can still hear the thumping music in the background. My mind hums as it works way too quickly. A breeze tickles my nostrils, carrying the sweet scent of alcohol with it. It swirls around me and lingers in my nose as if it is attempting to lure me back in.

My gaze darts back to the door, clearly seeing the red exit sign flash. I stare at the door, my thoughts rushing together as I try to decide what to do next. I don't have to decide, though; the decision is made for me.

Lights shoot out into the alley as the door swings open. A figure stands in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck as he peers down the alley. Through my suddenly hazy vision, I can still see the lazy, drunken smile on my partner's face as he spots me. The door clatters shut and he strolls over to me with a sway to his step. The wolf inside me rises again, the heat smoldering words right out of my throat.

The next thing I know, the man is there, his arms braced against the wall as he hovers over me. He reeks of trouble and he speaks nonsense, his words slurring and tangling together. I stare at him, my eyes level with his, my body fighting to stay in its false form. The man lets out a shaky, crazed laugh as he presses in closer to me. I can tell he's still trapped in the beat, his body working as he tries to get a response out of me.

There is nothing else to do but play along.

I whisper to him smoothly. "You like this?" I slide my hands over his shoulders, my arms wrapping around his neck.

He nods and grins, his hands sliding around my thighs to grip my ass.

"You want that?"

The man breathes more heavily now as my legs lock around his waist. His careless, open lips press into my flaming skin, melting against my heat. He shudders violently and groans. I smirk as my nails catch in his shirt. The man's teeth grind together, his rough hand traveling up my exposed back and neck while sliding into my hair and grabbing a fist full. He firmly shoves my head back and braces himself, grunting as she tries to find a grip on my clothing.

"Hold still, nasty little bitch," he orders. His grip tightens as he starts to pull at my clothes, peeling them away.

The wolf inside me stretches and starts to fight ferociously against my control. I can no longer deny the wolf as the man's words light a spark in me, his actions setting the fire. I'm blazing now, and I can't control it.

My hands catch his head and jerk it roughly to the side. I hold his head steady, forcing him to look at me. His eyes twitch at the murderous glint in my expression and a sneer rises on my face.

"What did you call me?" I ask, the words a vicious demand.

"Nothing," the man answers quickly. His hands fall away from me, dropping to his sides.

My legs constrict his waist slowly, the pressure building until they make an audible crack. The man coughs roughly and shoves me, but his attempts are useless. "You're  _lying_ ," I snarl.

"What the  _hell_  is w-wrong wi-ith y-y-ou?" The man gags, his knees buckling as he stares at me blankly. His face pales as blood trickles from his nose.

A smile appears on my face, spoiled with darkness. "The list's a little too long."

It is then that I can no longer suffocate the wolf inside me. The wolf erupts inside of me and my body stretches out, exploding into another form. The man doesn't get a chance to scream; his voice doesn't even pass through his throat. The man's flesh tears from his body, blood splattering the alley in a thick wave of crimson. The mangled body falls limply to the ground, a puddle of his own blood expanding around him.

I am left alone, staring at the twisted, deformed shreds of the man. I know that he had full intentions to corrupt me, but I am not one to allow anything like that to happen.  _Nobody_  messes with Jordan Uley. Some just have to learn that lesson the hard way.

My body spins back around and steadily paces out of the alley, heading toward the glowing lights just beyond the alley. Thankfully the pack mind is silent and I have no company, so putting this behind me won't be an issue. Leah will find her own way back; she even doesn't want me to wait around for her. Just a quick charge through the park and I can hit the forest again, leaving all of this behind me. Sure, there would be new rumors of Washington's killing wolves on the news. I won't be the one who gives a damn, either. Sure, this probably has been a mistake that, once uncovered, will make hell for me. But I have to learn lessons, too, and what the pack doesn't know won't kill them.

The instant my paws touch the soft, undisturbed grass of the park, I shoot off again. I soar through the park with acquired speed and grace, not bothering a single blade of grass, before I hit the forest. My speed accelerates and my mind goes free, muscle, bone, and body all working in harmony. Even the questioning thoughts that scroll through my mind don't bother me now; the memories all slip away soon enough.

I force my thoughts away as I rush toward home. I don't need to wallow around any longer, just waiting for myself to snap. I came here with a task to complete and I need to fulfill it. I need to fight. I need to  _kill_.

As long as the Cullen parasites exist, this burn won't go anywhere.


	24. Rejected

* * *

Chapter Twenty Four

Rejected

* * *

I clear the porch stairs in a single stride, my hand twisting around the slick knob as I slip through the open door. Dawn has yet to break, leaving Sam's house covered with a layer of darkness. I stand still for a moment, my head tipped to one side as I allow my senses to roam through every inch of the house: tasting scents, straining to hear movements, and feeling for the warmth of a presence.

The house is completely still.

Good. I nod once to myself, heading toward the stairs. I pause as a dash of color catches my eye. I glance to the left, noticing a white slice of paper tacked to the wall. I tear the paper free while my eyes scan through the words.

_Hey honey. I know youre going to be home late and you will need to selep. Todays the day when the pack is schedled to go out fr the chase. Ill come home wake you early enough to take a quick sweep of the borders with Nic but please get some rset. If you sleep you only have to clsoe your eyes and the next thing you kmow Ill be waking you up. No nihgmtares._

_Love you_

_Sam_

Droplets of water leak onto the paper, staining the note. I read through the hastily scribbled words once more with a slight scowl. _Nightmares? Please sleep? Love you?_  I crumple the paper in my hands.

"I'm not three anymore, Sam," I mutter to myself. "But thanks for giving a damn."

I chuck the paper into the wastebasket as I make my way upstairs. At least he is giving me a little credit, allowing Nicole and me to take the border check. Now, if only Nicole can learn to show me some respect before I have to tear it into her with my own teeth.

The house is the same as it always is, I notice. I haven't been in the house much since my arrival. The habit of sleeping beside a tree and the freedom from the confinement of those thick walls has yet to fade, even as the weeks have flown by. I reach the top of the stairs, my eyes shooting down the narrow hall. The walls and floors are both wood, shining as if they have recently been waxed. Dust lines the floor where the wall and floor meet, but it's nothing that a human will ever notice. The air is crisp—breezes spill through the window at the end of the hall, the roof angling over it to shield the inside of the house from the battering rain.

My room is all the way at the end of the hall, closest to the window, and I stop before the door. My fingers brush over the knob, a thin layer of dust grabbing onto my skin upon contact. I turn my wrist slowly, the door creaking as if the movement is painful. I push the door open and slide into my room, closing the door behind me.

Nothing has changed about my room, either. Simple colored furniture, wood floors and walls, a closet on the far side, and a window across from my bed. Everything is just how I like it, simple and neat enough to pass as clean.

I hum under my breath as I fall back onto my bed, landing in a sitting position. I pull my legs to me, crossing them Indian style. I smirk as my legs poke over the edge, the length of them too long for the bed. I am just about to stretch them back out when something catches my eye.

A notebook lay on the floor, peeking out from the foot of my bed. It is nothing more than a simple brown cover with pages in between, barely held together by a flimsy binding. I recognize it instantly, remembering seeing it in Nicole's hands. I can picture her waving it around, taunting me. I exhale slowly and lean to the side, catching the notebook in my fingers while pushing it open with my thumb. I study the pages carefully and rest it on my lap.

The notebook is still crisp and clean, not showing any signs of being on the floor for the past two and a half years. I leaf through the pages, taking time to look over the contents of the notebook. Everything is crafted in pencil and still well done, even though it's all the result of a five-minute period of free time. The pages hold drawings of grass with morning dew, and wolves running through the trees. There are even a few taped-in pictures of Sam, Nicole, and me together. One page has the Quileute alphabet, each of the letters sculpted carefully in my curly handwriting. I continue through the notebook until I notice one particular entry. A scowl darkness my expression at the sight of the words, but my fingers pause as I read it.

_What is there in life but the promise of another hell tomorrow? Maybe there isn't even that left for me; at least, not here. Nothing feels right anymore. This isn't me. I know it. There is something missing, and until I find it, I'll never be anybody. Maybe, just maybe, you have to lose yourself before you find yourself._

I feel my blood heat up as my gaze drags across the words a fourth time, but even then, they remain the same. My finger skims across the page before turning it over. I flip through the rest of the book, finding the rest to be empty. This entry is the last one written.

A soft breeze slips into my room, caressing my face and neck. I raise my gaze and fix it blankly on the window as I slowly lower myself down. The notebook tumbles out of my fingers, gently falling shut as it hits the ground. I turn over and press my face into my pillow, forcing my eyes to squeeze shut as I struggle to bring sleep to my mind.

But as I try to force myself into slumber, my mind continues to work. I can't help but think.

After the leech's ashy remains are heading down river, maybe I  _should_  be off again. There is no point in sticking around just for another worthless, rainy day. The pack might be my family, but my purpose is not to live in a cramped house and run the muggy lines. My purpose is somewhere else. I can  _feel_  it, as real as blood and bone. My purpose is to kill, and I will not stop for anything.

Besides, I don't know how to do anything else.

I roll over in my bed, pressing my face into the cool surface of my pillow.  _What the hell, is it really this hard to sleep? Just breathe. In, out. In, out. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep_ —

An obnoxious bang on the walls beneath me interrupts my thoughts. I growl softly under my breath and roll over, sliding my hands through my hair. I squint against the thin beams of morning light, my eyes adjusting quickly. The knocking comes again—once, twice, and then there is a crashing sound, as if someone has just broke the door down.

I am on my feet in an instant, moving down the hall with my body crouched defensively. I slide across the wall, my head turning around the corner to peer down the stairs. Sam probably is home now, coming home to check on me. Or maybe it's just Nicole being a dumbass. Or maybe it's time for the chase.

My heart swells with the excitement of a possible fight, but it fades quickly just a moment later as I catch a familiar odor. Paul's musky scent fills my nostrils, bringing another scowl to my face. What the hell is he doing here this early? Is the guy nocturnal?

"Jordan." Paul's voice is deep and sure as he acknowledges me. I watch from the top of the stairs as he shuts the door behind him and folds his muscled arms across his bare chest. He leans back against the wall, as if waiting for me to come to him.

"Paul." I keep my voice smooth and sure, but I do not move. My instincts warn me of something, although I am not sure of what it is. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Paul huffs and walks toward the stairs, leaning against the railing. I can see him clearly now. His skin is damp and covered with droplets of rain, his hair spiked and his dark eyes filled with a strange gleam. He speaks slowly. "Just wanted to stop by. I saw you coming home, and I thought I'd stop in."

I raise one eyebrow, then the other, studying him carefully. "Not good enough."

Paul chuckles, stepping forward while spreading his arms across the width of the stairs. Naturally, my instinct starts to scream at the chance of a blocked exit. Paul doesn't seem to notice my tension—he merely smirks at me, his expression hidden under his spike of bangs. "Maybe I've just had a little something special."

A soft growl slips through my teeth as I lock my gaze with his. The gleam in his eyes is completely unnatural—much too bright and happy. "You're fucking wasted, Paul."

"What?" Paul abruptly throws his head back and laughs. "No!"

"Paul," I warn him, my jaw tightening. I can feel my muscles start to twitch, my body temperature rising. I lock my jaw into place, willing myself to stay in still. I need to stay still, keeping the monster at bay. Paul's not going to do anything.

I take back that thought just a moment later.

It happens so quickly that even I don't see it coming. I never, ever imagined something like this happening.

Suddenly, Paul launches himself at me. The movement is sloppy and slow, but I am in the middle of locking myself down and I can't dodge it. Paul all but tackles me back into the wall, pressing himself up against me. I don't even have time to think as he leans down, crashing his lips against mine.

The kiss is not  _bad_. No, it is not bad at all. His warmth spreads through me, passing through my body like a shot of pure, pleasurable fire. His hands slide around my waist and to my back, pulling me against him.

Once the reality of what is happening hits me, I react faster than I can even think. My hands snatch his arms and twist them back, prying him off me. I deliver a powerful kick to his gut. The blow knocks Paul down the stairs, sending him crashing head first. Paul's back slams into the door, and he grimaces before lying in a heap on the floor.

I can't stop myself there.

My body swings up onto the railing, and I land softly at the bottom, feeling my heels crack the floor. I am in motion a moment later. I grab Paul by the neck and smash him back into the wall, unbothered by the gurgle of his breathing. My shaking hand finds the knob and hurls the door open, sending it crashing into the wall. I can feel Paul's hot fingers trying to pry my grip loose, but the struggle only causes my hold to tighten. I kick the door back as it swings toward me before I force Paul's body outside in one powerful shove.

I remain in the doorway as Paul rolls down the stairs before finally stopping in a thick, muddy puddle. My breathing is rapid as my mind races, trying hard to keep up with one another. My fingers curl into my palm as I stare at him, waiting for a reaction.

Paul slowly picks himself up off the ground. Blood streams from his nose. He wipes his arm across his upper lip, clearing it off. He then slowly raises his head to stare at me. There is a moment's pause before he flashes a grin, his echoing laugh bouncing around the halls.

"Well." Paul stands shakily, nodding his head and he inhales. "I got rejected, didn't I?" He glances up at my still form, and then nods. "Yep. I bet you still liked it."

"Get out!" I demand through chattering teeth.

Paul raises his hands, turning in a full circle before he takes an uneasy step forward. "Fine, fine. I'll see you later, then. Don't come back for more so quickly, though. You…you owe me one." Paul laughs once more, and then staggers into the green of the forest, disappearing.

For a moment, I continue to stand there, staring after him. His scent lingers in the air; a heavy reminder of what just happened. Slowly, time comes back to me and I whirl around, my fist going into the wall. My free hand lashes forward and curls around the hole before ripping a large chunk out. I snap back around and swing my arm forward in one smooth movement, pitching the chunk of the wall into the door.

 _Shit. Calm down. Deep breaths. In, out._ I rake my hands through my hair before dropping my foot back and heading into my room, leaving the mess unattended. Inhaling deeply, I slip back into my bed, my body still quivering as if it is filled with tiny sparks of contained energy.

I throw the pillow over my head, leaning into my mattress. I take in deep, slow breaths as my head spins. Damn Paul for doing something like this right before the chase. I don't need something like this now—I need to focus. I draw in another deep breath before squeezing my eyes shut, attempting to demand sleep to come to me.

It never gets close.


	25. Clicked

_"Oh, perhaps it's all a dream and make believe  
Oh, the last of all my dreams but still leave me."_ - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Five

Clicked

* * *

Sleep comes and goes, fading in and out of my mind. I find myself covered with sweat at random points throughout the day, and I am on my feet a lot, pacing back and forth across my room while muttering to myself. After the fourth lap, impatience sets in. I snap the curtains shut to block out the grey light before I slip back in bed and take a deep breath. I exhale through my nose slowly, willing all of my scattered thoughts to exit in one breath.

"Sleep," I command myself. I work the muscles in my shoulders, relaxing them before moving down to my abdomen, and then my thighs, unlocking all the muscles that are already tight and ready for battle.

"Relax." My eyes trail across the ceiling before closing. I embrace my pillow and breathe in its dusty scent. By the time the air leaves my nostrils, I am asleep.

_Bloodsucker._

_I let loose a howl of pure ferocity. The sound of it_ _rips through the heavy silence of the forest and pierces the air; it is a powerful battle cry. The leech is down on the ground in a crouch before me, his lips curled back and his eyes focused. He hisses menacingly, begging me to lunge at him and end his life._

_My body doesn't move._

_Instead, I lurch backwards. My ears press flat and I throw myself forward once more. My movements are restrained and slow, unnatural. My gaze flickers downward, taking in the sight of the chains strung around my body. I stand wrapped in a coat of chains, my paws sinking deep into a pool of black muck._

_I haven't noticed the pack, but they are there, lined beside me in a strict row. They watch me with clouded eyes._ _Each wolf stares at the leech, their stances relaxed and their gazes blank. Not one of them does a damn thing._

_I gnash my teeth together and throw my weight around violently. The chains around my shoulders rattle and whine as they stretch, but they don't break._

_"What the hell are you all doing? There's a leech right in front of your faces. Get at him!"_

_The pack angles their heads to look at me. All of them watch me with glazed eyes, their stares boring into my face. The big, black wolf steps out to stand before me and lets out a sharp bark. He snatches the chain from the ground in his jaws, leaning his weight back as he pulls. I thrash with a new resistance, fighting against the tightening chains._

_Soon, each wolf of the pack has a chain clenched in their jaws. They surround me, slowly backing away and pulling the chains tighter. The leech escapes without a scratch._

_"Stay, Jordan," they chant. "You belong here."_

_I shift my shoulders and rear back, feeling the muck suck me down even further. I lock myself in place, feeling the mushy ground settle around me as my movements pause. A growl slips through my teeth as I warn the pack to back down._

_"Stay." The pack all jerks back at once. The chains slice through my fur and dig into my skin. I ignore the painful sensation and force my body to pull upward._

_The constant strain and pressure of the chains only increases. I jerk back, only to find myself chin deep in the muck. I snarl softly and then give one final jerk, pulling myself back and away from the muck._

_My neck snaps right then, as if the decision to slip away from my tribe has killed me._

"Jordan."

I inhale sharply at the sound of my name. My arm swings around as I sit up, connecting into the firm line of a jaw. I blink my eyes clear as Sam stumbles back, cracking his jaw back into place. His brow furrows as he looks at me, his dark eyes full of confusion and astonishment.

Sam assesses my expression before shaking his head. "I need you out for the patrol." He turns his back and heads for the door. "Quickly."

I wait for Sam's footsteps to cease before I spring into action. An intense focus spreads across my face, wiping away the effect of my dream and darkening my expression in a matter of moments. There is no time for distractions.

Not wasting a second, I throw my window open and slip out, landing on the ground softly. Heat spreads across my body as I shed my clothes, leaving them strewn behind me. I keep my gaze intently focused and my pace steady, but my fingertips still tremble as I sink into the shadows.

()()()

One by one, each wolf slinks out of their human forms, anxiously gathering together in the gloomy forest. The pack stands together near the treaty line, just a mile off the river. The wolves follow the order to stand in a line, filling up the small space of the clearing. With our strong and sure stances, we are set and ready. The excitement is hanging heavily in the air while thoughts of the upcoming task are pitched around from one racing mind to another. Each wolf fantasizes of catching the prey themselves. Sets of anxious, razor sharp teeth gleam against the darkness while the violent jerk of each restless movement tears at the swirl of mud and blades of forest vegetation beneath our paws.

The black wolf raises his head as I jog down the hill, stopping to stand before him and the wolves. Nicole proudly jogs back into place by Sam as I report our findings.  _We found strong leech stenches, but only Cullen ones. The Cullens are definitely out there, but nowhere near the line._

Other wolf thoughts rise and slur together as they take in the news, but Sam ignores them. He nods his head.  _Then there is no threat to us. Thank you, girls._

 _No thanks needed, Sam._ Nicole settles into place behind Jared, breathing in the surrounding forest.

 _Over here, Jord._ Paul stands beside Sam, his grey fur ruffled and flecked with dirt. He lifts his head and slides away from Sam, making room for me. I stand my ground for a moment, studying the grey wolf. He senses my suspicion and meets my gaze with innocent dark eyes. I catch the apologetic mood passing from his mind to my own and shake my head with a huff.

_To hell with it._

I nod and take my place next to him. Behind me, the spotted wolf leans away uneasily as I move close to him. I flick my ears at his movement and fix my gaze on the green forest.

_Damn 'sucker better get her sparkly ass going. I don't have all night._

_The dead probably do have time, and a lot of it._ My response is automatic. I glance over my shoulder to see the other wolves throwing their heads around, all of them wrestling their own impatient urges as they grow more and more trapped in their own conversations. Each wolf is in desperate need to distract themselves, all except for Jacob, who stands to the side with his thoughts focused on the face of a human girl.

 _And you're one to say that?_  Paul huffs, taking the gesture of my head turning as an attempt to ignore him.  _You seemed to be in a rush this morning._

_What did you want me to do? Let you attack me?_

_Oh, I don't know. You could have . . . hmm . . . kissed me back?_

The memory of the kiss rises into Paul's mind. I shift my weight around, bottling up the angry heat that rises in my stomach.  _I don't want to be attacked_ — _or kissed_ — _by anybody._

 _Okay, okay. I don't really know what got into me. I was kinda tired, a little off. I_ —

 _Am fine._ I finish for him.  _You have no reason to apologize to me, Paul. I'm not pissed at you, I don't even think I have enough room to hate any of you; it'd be a useless waste of time and effort. I don't want anybody kissing me, though. At all. We're here to kill a parasite, not to argue over shit like this._

 _If you say so._ Paul's ears droop against his head. He slowly collects himself, standing tall once again. His head bobs as he focuses on the forest, his mind slipping into the pack's thoughts once or twice. He makes a point to toss his head back and flash his teeth at Embry for a moment, but otherwise doesn't react to the pack's thoughts. Eventually, I find myself getting lost in the forest. I am completely focused on the natural night buzz, all until Paul's gaze grazes across the grass and settles on me once more.

His gaze brings nothing but a twinge of frustration, and even a little trigger for self is like one of those dramatic television shows, and I am far from interested in being caught up in any of that crap. It can't be a crime to be a woman for a woman to not want to gasp and giggle at every guy that looks at her twice.  _Especially_  when that guy is her best  _friend_.

Paul exhales sharply and swings his head around, staring straight ahead. He seems to catch the mood of my wordless thoughts and is—finally—focusing back on our objective. Good. Line drawn, problem solved. For now.

I flick my gaze around for a moment, and then fix my concentrated stare straight ahead and my lip curls, forming a snarl. The light grey wolf next to me rams against my shoulder, growling softy. I snap my teeth warningly in Leah's direction, shifting my stance and letting my annoyance roll out in a gust of exhaled breath before I force my attention back on the current task.

 _Easy._  Sam's deep voice sends the warning through our heads, his tone loud and clear above the chaotic stream of thoughts.  _We can't lose focus._

The thoughts of the pack stutter for a moment before dying down completely. The joined minds of the pack share only the sounds of the forest as the wolves stretch out their senses. Nicole, standing proudly next to Sam, huffs in a content way. She stretches her snout upward, allowing the flavors of the breeze to be caught in her nostrils. I do the same, but I can't help but notice Leah's head bowing toward the ground. Her mind lets loose a sliver of pain before she regains control of her thoughts once more.

Her dark eyes dart toward my mine as she senses my attention on her thoughts, staring at me with her eyes narrowed. I flash my teeth warningly once more, showing that I am not doing anything to cause her harm, before moving my gaze straight ahead once more. God, if it is this much of a struggle to focus now, then I don't even want to think about what it will be like when we set off after our target.

 _I say we just let the vampires get it,_ Seth's voice chimes in, responding to my thought.

The idea is a stupid one. Seth is young and without much experience; it's clear in the waves of caution and fear scrolling through his mind. If his attitude doesn't give it away, his large, clumsy paws do. I dismiss his suggestion with a slight shake of my head as a low rumble of disagreement passes through the pack.

 _Okay, Seth, we'll all just all chase it down, and_ you  _can be the bait. We'll toss you to the leech side and see what happens. Sound better?_ Jared huffs.

Seth whines and shamefully ducks his head, his nervous gaze settling on his oversized paws.

 _We_ will  _be the ones to slaughter the bloodsucker. If the Cullens can't catch her, then we can. We must protect Bella_ — _we were born to protect, and protect we will._ Sam lifts his tail and head as he speaks; the gesture reminds the pack of the authority tied to his words.

Jacob shakes his head and meets Sam eyes.  _Don't drag Bella into this, Sam. It's not her fault. If anything, blame those_ Cullens. Jacob shakes his head and snarls, his tone filling with resentment.

 _Damn right!_ Paul howls, snapping his teeth and echoing Jacob's snarl.  _Give those bastards something to respect after they see us in action!_

My lip curls again, revealing my teeth. The fumble of Seth's paws distractions my attention from the riled wolves to the sandy wolf slowly retreating to the back of the back, his body lowered to the ground. I shake my head as he slips away and shift back. I slam a paw down behind him, blocking his path. _You gotta get a grip. Do you really want to go all the way home, miss out on the action, and have the pack all look down on you?_

The sandy wolf's eyes widen as he pictures Jacob's human face looking down at him in disapproval. Seth braces himself against the sodden ground and stands proudly, brushing past me as he heads toward Quil and Embry, who are mentally betting who is going to catch the red-headed bloodsucker.

Eager and denying the distracting influence of the pack, I force myself back on task. I search the forest with my senses; my ears strain to hear something moving in the distance, my nose shifts through many tastes as it searches for the scent that will send us on the hunt. Everything is so still, so quiet, until another stray thought breaks the pack's focus once more.

 _Maybe we should just all quiet down and wait for the parasite to come._  Leah swings her head from side to side as she contemplates. Being another newer wolf, her paws have the same awkward size, and she sways slightly with her movement.

 _Can't poor Leah take it? Oh, the poor leechy is gonna go to hell. Aww._ Paul's eyes grow wide and watery as he mocks her, his playfulness shining bright in his mind.

Paul means no harm. We are all family; the pack picks on each other just as siblings do. But Leah, being…well, Leah, doesn't take the picking on so kindly.

 _I can rip you to shreds faster than that leech, Paul._ Leah snarls, her gaze locking with his.  _Don't try me._

Paul is shoved around a little by the guys who ' _ooh_ ' and ' _ahh_ ' at Leah's threat. Paul grumbles and shakes them off, huffing as he glares at Leah. I growl lowly at Paul, bumping my shoulder into his in warning. Paul huffs again, leaning back while shaking his head.

 _We feel your pain._  Jared mumbles.  _But that was then. Now, we have Matchmakers dot com_.

Most of the pack barks with laughter at Jared's stupid joke. Sam and Nicole both shake their heads, while Jacob swings around to peer over his shoulder, becoming interested. I find my head turning too, my own attention wavering.

 _That's pretty low,_  Embry comments warily. He glances between the two bristling wolves, the moonlight catching the fading amusement of his gaze.

 _Who cares_?  _We've gotten enough crap from her head. She can take it_.  _I mean, she's so_ tough,  _I don't even think she's a woman_. Jared steals a glace in Seth's direction, his eyes twinkling with laughter. Seth stiffens.

 _Man, you tell 'em._ Paul flashes his teeth in a grin as he bumps against Jared.

My attention is completely averted from our task now. I shove myself between the wolves, glancing between Paul and Jared while growling lowly. They both wolf grin back, shifting their paws around to stand in front of me. I make a point to fix my stare on Jared, watching his shoulders tense under my gaze.

The rest of the pack circles behind Jared and Paul, hanging back as they watch.

 _Five bucks on Cameron._ Embry's soft voice enters the pack mind, although he himself is only focusing on Quil's.

Quil snorts in response.  _You serious? Twenty on Uley. She's something else._

 _Is this_ really  _necessary?_ Nicole huffs at Quil and Embry, her tail swishing around.

 _No._ Seth whimpers and moves away from the riled pack.

 _What are you waiting for?_ Nicole pushes against Sam.  _Break it up._ She glances in Jacob's direction, but he is too focused on the current matter to notice.

Sam remains rooted in place, almost as if he expects the pack to simply follow his example. The younger wolves lean toward him, as if they are afraid of getting in trouble during such an important task. No other wolf moves.

I snap my teeth together impatiently and lunge, landing next to Leah. I stand above her with my ears flat and my teeth bared, holding Paul's gaze.  _We need to get moving._

Leah snorts in agreement. Paul shakes his head and swings back around. I rest my gaze on the brown wolf beside him, but he doesn't budge. Jared's ears press to his head and he leans away from me.  _Take a joke. You don't have to be so uptight about it. You have no reason to be so pissed all the time._

The whole pack is now circled around the three of us, anticipating a vicious outburst. I tremble with rage while Leah rakes her claws through the soft dirt beneath her paws, her teeth bare in a menacing snarl. I am about ready to rip Jared's throat clean out, but Leah senses my thoughts and decides she should step in.

In the blink of an eye, the small grey she-wolf launches herself straight at the brown wolf. Leah lashes out, snapping her teeth at his side, growling like mad. Jared snarls, his paws swiping through the air as he slashes at Leah. He heaves himself upward and the two wolves clash in mid-air, spit and mud flying as they both attempt to tear at each other's flesh.

 _That's enough!_  Sam's mental voice roars. He thrusts himself in between the wolves, and they both fall back instantly under the weight of his order. The muscles underneath Sam's dark pelt ripple as he slams his paws down, turning in a circle as he meets the steady, obedient gaze of every wolf.

 _Back in place, all of you!_ Sam orders sharply. His white teeth gleam in the darkness, growls rumbling in his throat as he glares down upon his pack.

Unable to disobey, every wolf shuffles back into a straight line. The usual buzz of thoughts fades into a dull hum. Satisfied, Sam silently shoulders through the wolves to stand at the point, nudging Nicole's forehead with his nose, and then mine. I nod, knowing the gesture is meant to be apologetic, as Sam thinks he can actually scare as **(us)**.  _Right._  I shake my fur out and channel my focus onto the forest, allowing my senses to roam once more as Paul and Leah settle next to me. Their thoughts drift as they struggle to silence themselves.

I close my eyes, my acute senses carrying me through the woods. Everything is so calming; the tender scent of bark and leaves, the taste of the chill in the night air, and the never ending towers of trees that spread out all around me. The raw, effortless beauty of the forest rolls through my mind. I drink it all in until one sickly sweet scent corrupts it. I gag in disgust, my eyes cracking open.  _Parasite._

My body curls backwards before rocketing forward. It takes a mere second for the pack to snag the thought from my mind. Every wolf bolts ahead at once, howling as they leap into a heated pursuit. Paws pound on the damp forest floor, soil flying as the pack accelerates.

Galloping with inhuman speed, I gracefully soar over a fallen tree that blocks my path. A sea of bodies glides behind me in a synchronized motion. My knees bend slightly, cushioning my landing while allowing me to continue pushing forward again in just a heartbeat. The scent strengthens on our tongues as we close the distance between us and our prey. The blazes of excitement crackle while baying wolves propel themselves forward, anxious.

 _There!_ Seth calls out. He and Quil both halt in sudden panic as the thought of what is happening settles in. Leah crashes into them, cursing and slashing at the air as she does so. The pack falters before a wolf sends a different image through the pack mind: a flash of a white figure against the black sky just to our left, moving swiftly like a fish in a stream.

A moment later, Jacob blows by me, his muscular shoulder prodding mine. He doesn't notice me, though; his thoughts have only been focused on the human girl all night. Jacob is blind to the world around him as he rockets forward, the name 'Bella' on the throne of his thoughts as he pushes himself to his limit. I snarl at him as he takes the lead. In my peripheral vision, I see Nicole's ears perk up as Jacob races ahead. She huffs, lengthening her strides as she pushes herself faster.

Sam, Paul, and Jared, with their long legs and extra experience, are soon gaining on Jacob. They fly across the squishy ground and lead the pack forward in a snarling mass of powerful, vicious bodies. Jacob remains ahead—no other wolf can match his speed. Soon, the scent of muck filters into every wolf's nostrils, followed by a familiar perfumey stench we all know by now. In a matter of seconds, the pack is zooming down the treaty line, running parallel to our Cullen enemies.

The leech we came for is visible from across the river, being trailed by the pale shadows of the Cullen vampires. The pack's thoughts pick up on her. A flame flares in the sky, distracting me from the chase. It takes a minute for me to realize the flame is not a flame, but the hair of the leech as she dodges a pale hand and leaps to our side. With a deep, impatient breath, I blast forward, giving all I have. The scene ticks in slow motion before racing into fast-forward as a Cullen stupidly leaps after the parasite. Our prey is forgotten. Every wolf averts their attention to the Cullen, breaking out into a mad fit.

"Emmett! No!" a female voice shrieks, her voice echoing around the forest. Nobody hears her as her voice fades, her shout useless.

 _Rip it to shreds!_ Jacob, being the first one to make it to the cliff, growls furiously as he skids to a stop. He ignores the other wolves as they all halt beside him, ramming their shoulders together as they all try to lunge up toward the Cullen.

 _BACK! I got it!_ Paul stalks ahead, not waiting for an answer. He braces himself on the rock, his curved, pointed teeth showing while his eyes lock on his target and his weight shifts from side to side. He is ready to kill.

Sam gives direct but hushed orders, leaving Paul to stand tall on the rocky edge of the line, dangerously close to the rushing water. There is only the sound of soft breathing and thundering heartbeats for a long while. Time drags on until suddenly, the large male Cullen comes short in his lunge and crashes down on Paul.

Paul's temper bursts. He snarls violently and spins around, sending the Cullen off him. His body disappears under the disturbed surface. Instantly, other wolves lean forward. Paul slams one paw down, his eyes scanning the water as he shakes, snaps, and snarls. _It crossed the line!_

All attention centers on Paul and the Cullen; even the forest seems to hold its breath. I don't move, but I allow my eyes to carefully study the forest around the pack. Our original target has disappeared, slipping through our grasp. She is lucky, but only for now.

Finding the forest empty, I slip into Paul's mind for a second, just long enough to watch a red wave of color sweep over his vision.  _Nobody else take him. I'm gonna get that damned bloodsucker. I'm gonna rip him to shreds. I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna. . ._

 _Paul, he didn't do anything wrong._ I press my ears flat against the sound of Seth's thought as the pack tries to pull us back.

 _Can it, Seth._ Paul snarls back, letting the aggression flow through his bared teeth. I mimic him, shifting my weight around. The pack's excitement is buzzing in the air once more as we wait for the bloodsucker to show himself. Paul and I have him surrounded now. If he decides to charge us, we'll chop him like a vegetable. If he tries to run, we'll be on him before he can even turn around. Paul senses my thoughts and nods curtly in approval, stepping to the side as if to give me space. I let out a slow snarl, my shoulders quivering with impatience.

 _Paul, Jordan._ Sam snaps in our minds. _If he retreats, you are to let him go._

 _And if he doesn't?_ Paul's mind flickers into my own as he waits for me to finish his thought.

 _We'll slaughter him!_  I let out a contained howl, feeling the pack rile up behind me. To my amusement, the Cullens across the border flinch at the sound, but the leader stretches his arms out, holding them back. My heart gallops at the idea of a fight. The pack shifts behind Paul and me, their voices slurring together as they shout at once, but I don't hear them. I am solely focused on my prey, my mind working out all the possibilities of how I can kill him. Seconds drag by as every pair of eyes lock on the still river, waiting.

After an excruciating few seconds, the Cullen leech shoots out of the water. He screeches with rage, shaking his head violently, spraying the pack with water. There's a flash of white as his teeth bare and he crouches, facing the pack with a feral hiss.

After two and a half years of hearing the same defensive hiss before an attack, the sound triggers a natural response in me: kill. I don't even think of the pack around me as I push off the rock, launching past Paul and into the water. My weight knocks the vampire clean off his feet, my paws finding his chest. The vampire snarls and swings a hand at my front legs, but I intercept his swing with my jaws. My teeth slide through his wrist like butter, his hand disconnecting from his arm with a snap.

I spit the hand out and lean forward, my weight pinning the vampire as my hind paws slam down on his knees. The vampire screeches in rage, thrashing in the water as I hold him down. A growl rolls through my body as I hover over him.

The pack's explosion of excitement races into my mind. Sam's sharp words are the only thing that holds them in place. I can see flashes of the crazed vampires on the other side through the pack mind, all of them only held back by the arms of their leader. Through the explosion of thoughts, only Paul's make it through clearly.

Hell _yeah, Jordan! That's it, 'bout time someone had the guts to catch one of them. Now do a favor for your tribe. Kill it!_

I huff in triumph, feeling the leech tense and struggle beneath my weight. I know, deep down, that I never will be so selfish to break the treaty and dishonor my ancestors, but the need to kill overtakes me, pulling the monster out of the shadows. I study the leech for a moment as my teeth slowly lean down to his throat. For some reason, my eyes catch more detail than they normally do.

The leech wears a white shirt that seems to be a little lighter than his skin, but it is hard to tell because his skin is so pale, it seems to be glowing. I can make out every detail of his muscles and every angle of his broad body. His hair sticks to his forehead, almost touching his blazing, coal black eyes. He is big and muscular, but no threat to me. My jaws spread, my teeth slipping over the leech's throat. I am just about to rip his head clean off when the vampire gives a strained grunt and falls back into the water.

Howls of impatience rise into the air as the pack throws themselves around, all of them wanting to get at the prey. Sam's orders grow in volume as he launches himself before the pack, forcing them to fall back. Jared follows behind him, supporting him with a stream of words and a low growl. A few of the Cullens are lunging toward the river, thrashing and screeching, only to be dragged back by a few others. The wind whistles through the trees and a light mist of rain drizzles over the forest. I am deaf to it all as just for a moment, the Cullen's gaze flickers into mine, as if he is seeing straight through my wolfish face and into my true being.

The world pauses. My breathing stops, and the pack's thoughts blur from my mind as if I am listening to them underwater. Nothing else is there anymore. It is just the leech and me as he relaxes, his brow furrowing as he studies me, seeing something beyond the outside world.

Just one glance locks my body down. Just one glance causes me to back down for the first time in my life. With one harmless glance, my life is changed forever.

In that second, all need to fight and kill blows away like a seed captured by the wind. My gaze freezes on the vampire. Everything, right then and there,  _changes_. The world around me stops spinning and whirls in reverse. The need to rip this vampire to shreds dies in that moment, disappearing. Everything I have ever thought—every memory, pain, and need—leaves me in that second. My heart pauses before bursting into a rapid frenzy. My head spins, whipping around like the churning water below as I lose control of myself.

A glowing heat dances inside me, blooming out across the darkness and lighting up the world around me. My heart feels like it is about to explode, and my muzzle trembles. Memories shake my mind and the strings of my meaning to my life snap, right then. I envision myself turning to my pack and forcing them back in a flurry of snapping teeth, but I am unable to move. Voices, memories, emotions, words…e _verything_ pours through my mind, all at once.

 _"You're too far over the edge._ Hopeless.  _Nobody will see the reason to help you, because you have no reason to live."_

 _"This is a dangerous, wild animal, not a_  human being _. Who would be one to show sympathy and understanding to such a monster? "_

 _"Face it. You're a_ freak.  _No guy is_ ever  _gonna want you."_

 _"You always act so weird all the time. They must have really_ screwed you up  _over on the Makah rez."_

_"I can't believe I had the guts to pretend like I loved you! Nobody should. Nobody ever will."_

_"You're too much of_ a mess _. A blind man could see it."_

 _"_ Leeches.  _Leeches are the reason for everything. Why your parents are dead, why we are here, why you changed that girl, and why you can't be a normal woman. If anything, they need to be slaughtered, one by one. It's about time we got some justice around here."_

Suddenly, all those memories are cut away. The pain, the constant boil of fury, and the need to slaughter pours out of me. I am light enough to fly. The string of my existence has freed itself from the darkness of my past and latched onto the form beneath me. My veins are clear and filled with an icy new purpose. No longer is my life only about fury. No longer am I charged by insatiable fury. No longer is my only purpose in this world to kill and destroy.

All it takes is one little glance. I am changed. I go completely stiff as my mind processes what has just happened.

None of the pack seems to notice this—all of it happens in the time it takes for lightning to flash. I exhale, the air leaving my muzzle in a sharp whistling sound. I force my thoughts into the aggressive loop of the pack mind before any of them can catch onto mine, my body locking down.

I don't break my gaze, although I feel my lip drop back over my teeth and my head tilt to the side. Before I can actually look him over, the vampire finds his chance to escape. He hops to his feet with a splash of water and darts back to his side. A blonde female leech is there, standing next to him, her black eyes burning with fury that she directs straight at the soaked Cullen who has rejoined them. Normally, I ignore leech dramatics, but something about the way she glares at the Cullen makes me feel the need to shred that leech here and now. I feel as if I have been electrocuted; bolts of energy fill me, sizzling in my core.

After a brief nod, the leader Cullen nods, his eyes shining with gratitude. A wave of calm sweeps through the pack. I catch one last glimpse of the golden eyes as they shoot in my direction. With that, the Cullens are gone, leaving nothing behind but their scents.

 _We were so close! If that bloodsucker didn't jump. . . I_ had  _the red head. Damn thing was pretty stupid for having such a big head. Just an oversized, fanged ice cube. That's what they all are. He was all hissy and pissy too! Snarling at me like he had a chance against_ me  _in a fight. Ha!_  Paul rants to himself.

 _Yeah. . ._ I keep my voice light, focusing on the infuriated thoughts of the pack to hide the vicious, screeching voices inside my own head.

Paul glances over his shoulder at me, his lip peeling back slightly.  _I thought you were supposed to be some hardcore leech killer. What the hell happened back there, J?_

I don't answer him. My gaze stays trained on the waves of the current as they thrash against the rocks below. Disappointed wolves head back into the shadows, snarling and spitting a stream of curses, ready to call it a night. I feel my shoulders quiver with irritation at Paul's snap, but for some reason, my mind no longer tells me to lash out at him for his words.

 _Give her some space,_ Sam murmurs, his voice fading as he starts to shift from wolf to human.  _She did the right thing, but she's probably just disappointed._

Paul attempts to meet my eyes, but I don't remember how to move my body. Paul heaves a sigh before sauntering back into the brush, his own mind fading away. I wait until the last thought trails into nothing to open my mind up.

Sam can say I am disappointed all he wants, but I know he's wrong. There is something more behind that black gaze. Something has . . . clicked _._  I am well aware of what has happened, but my mind has yet to come to admit it.

Breathing is my main focus. My chest expands and relaxes with my heavy breaths. The rippling waters settle back into the gentle flow of the current. I stare, and a white wolf stares back. Her fur is ruffled with the wind and her dark blue eyes are distant, glazed over with some sort of look that even I can't explain.

I huff, swinging my head to shake the thoughts away as I retreat. My head pounds. A foreign ache in my heart, I set off toward Sam's house, wondering if I am more messed up than everyone thought, and knowing deep down that the plan to destroy the Cullens is now far behind me.

Fan-fucking-tastic.


	26. Dark-Eyed Desires

_"Is this just an illusion_  
 _That I made inside my head to get me by?"_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Six

Dark-Eyed Desires

* * *

Months slip by like water in a current, unaffected by the rush of things around them. I'm trapped in a blaze of blistering fire that tears me to shreds, bit by fucking bit. My heart constricts, clenching and crunching against my ribs. I can't explain what the hell is wrong with me, but I feel separation taking hold on my shoulders and slowly taking me in two. Not to mention the only thing behind my lids is every inch and detail of the damned 'sucker, or whatever the hell he's supposed to be.

I'm so fucking empty, I'm nothing. As each day drags on, the space inside me seems to grow. I float, each movement weightless and excuritatingly slow, like I'm moving through time without any purpose. My mind doesn't understand the pain inside me and it rejects it, turning the pain into a numb buzz. Once the floating starts to ebb, I begin to fade.

The farther I go, the harder something inside me fights to hold on, even if only for a little longer.

Some might say I'm too damn stubborn to think straight. Some might call it stupidity. Some don't have a damn clue and have their heads too far up their ass to see anything in two feet in front of them.

Rain soaks my skin, its chill pricking my heated body. I'm fucking drenched in my human skin from head to toe. My fingers tremble with the force of the change, but they still manage to slide my shirt over my chest and down over my body. I let out a breath and crash back into a tree, slumping against the bark. I roll my jaw, my shoulders drawing higher as I toy with the thin, trembling strand of my control.

Control.

Control is an elusive trick, slipping away from my reaching grasp just far enough to cause me to hover on the edge of my sanity. I gather the pieces I have left, each of them torn and scarred from the years behind me—years too bloody and broken to be called a childhood. I hang onto my control, the pressure pale on my knuckles.

Sometimes, control shies away from me. It always happens in the same situation: alone, thinking, with  _him_  in each part of my scattered thoughts. It happens in situations just like this.

I knot my hands in my hair, the steady pounding in my head pulsing through my skull and thumping against my clenched fists. The air around me burns my throat, entering my lungs in dry, fiery waves, scorching me from the inside out. Even the forest around me sizzles and crackles against the heat of my body. I'm a flame ignited, melting the world around me.

 _"Go. Kill him,"_  a voice whispers in my ear.  _"End this all now."_

My teeth grind together. I'm fucking _drunk_  with the heat. My brain is lulled and fuzzy, each thought stretching across my mind in slow motion, never quite forming a complete idea. The pounding in my head expands into pressure. I can feel it locking my body. It's fucking _real;_ it's there, flowing throughout my body and capturing my mind, destroying all of my thoughts. It is sudden weight on my shoulders—a real, unbreakable tie to a creature damned to the deepest pits of hell. I want to fight the bond—I always have been a little rebellious—but the pressure. . .

Presses.

Down.

Crushing.

 _Suffocating_.

I.

Can't.

 _Breathe_.

I slip.

 _Imprint. You have imprinted on the enemy. You are a_ fool _. You will end up dead_ — _dead with_ his  _poison tainting your blood_ — _blood that has made you who you are._ He  _will be the death of you now._ He  _will suck the life from you and you will rot away, all of your ambition wasted. Such a waste. . ._

The taunting voice in my head blurs out of focus as my vision is covered in red streaks. Streaks of raw anger bubble up from the deepest pits, running out of their contained shadow and spilling into my veins. I throw myself forward in a blind attack. Images shoot through my mind as my body moves like a puppet under the control of its master.

_The vampire crashes into the water. He hisses as he falls, the water parting around him. Crystal droplets spray outward, shooting into my fur, covering me._

I lash out at a tree. My fist crushes the bark as it hammers through, my free hand braced against its soft surface. I can feel my expression distort into a mask of pure fury as I tear through the tree as if it were butter, the splinters of wood raining upon me.

_In just a heartbeat, my eyes trace each sculpted, defined muscle of his body. They flex and bulge. The water soaks his clothing, causing his shirt to cling to him, revealing the breathtaking figure underneath._

Bark scatters across the ground, poking out of the soft, mushy surface as the remains of the tree jut out of the ground. I spin on my heel and push myself forward, my arms pumping madly as my feet tear away at the ground below them, ripping up the grass and mud.

_The vampire's dark gaze rises slowly. I burn with impatience, the darkened hue of his hungry eyes exciting me. I'm about to kill. As his black gaze meets mine, there is an instant connection. My heart flutters and I can only stare, the world disappearing into hues of gray and green and brown, all swept away in the soft breeze. The vampire's gaze probes mine. Electricity zaps me. The buzz vibrates bone-deep, shocking me. I stand there like an idiot, his gaze pinning me. My breath swirls out in front of me, clouding his flawless face._

And then he is gone.

I'm struck with reality as it hits me. I breathe in heavily as my head spins, stopping myself in the middle of the small clearing. My body leans back as my eyes skim across the mangled forest around me, my fingers still trembling from the rush of adrenaline.

"Get a grip," I order myself sharply. My hands absentmindedly slip the rest of clothes over my body, each piece tattered and crusted with dirt. I don't notice.

My eyes scan the forest again, catching the light drizzle of rain. My breath relaxes into a normal rhythm as my thoughts drift away.

Or maybe I should go. A little trip won't hurt, right? If I go to the line, maybe he will be there and I can end this whole thing now. Come on—Jordan Uley, imprinting on a bloodsucker? Right.

"Damn, you okay there, J?"

Paul's bare-chested form catches my eye as he leans his back against a tree, his muscled arms folded over his chest. He seems to have come out of nowhere. His stare meets mine, searching. He has hung around me like this for a while, slowly and silently apologizing to me with his visits and conversations.

Despite him being around so much, he still wears the same calm each time—he doesn't have a clue what is really going on. He doesn't know that I'm truly far from okay.

Independence has become an acquired part of my nature. I won't break to admit what has happened. I burn in silence. My gaze meets Paul's steadily as I fold away the storm of emotions and secure the lock.

"You've been acting crazier than usual for the last few months," he continues.

His words spend a twinge of irritation through me, but I roll my shoulders, tensing up defensively. Still, I do not speak. Paul studies me more closely, his eyes narrowed. We stand in an eternity of silence before he finally speaks.

"Okay, okay. How 'bout you come back to Sam's with me? Emily's got a whole boatload of food up there for all of us. You've gotta be hungry. Hell, I'll even try to save you something."

I stare at the fuzzy swirls of color that are Paul's face. My head swims with the wolf's anger, screaming out at me, demanding my attention—demanding to be released to burn off the torturing conflictions. I grit my teeth against the wolf, nod my head, and start off after _a_ loud, ranting Paul, my fingers curling as my mind drifts back to the dark-eyed vampire.


	27. Man Up

_"Leave me, leave me, I'm shutting it all down_  
 _You've got a tendency to bring a man down_  
 _I give up! I give up!  
You've gotta get a gun to make a woman run."_ - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Seven

Man Up

* * *

*Emmett*

My life is over.

Nah, I haven't died just yet. Alice declared that my future had disappeared as of four months ago, and she is worried that it means I will be killed. Of course, nothing really can kill me at this point, so all of their worrying is useless. But no, that's not what has cut eternity short on my end. It's a hell of a lot worse than that.

I hold one of Rose's magazines clenched in my hands and breathe in, unnecessary air filling my mouth. I exhale quickly, tasting the tiny, tasteless particles of dust on my tongue. I spit. This is intense—there is no time for distractions.

"Focus, Emmett," I chant confidently to myself. "You got this."

My gaze holds steadily on the wall before slowly lowering to the frozen image clenched in between my hands.

It's a woman, modeling a bikini. I have no doubt that this woman has thousands, maybe even millions of dollars in her bank account, all saved up from selling her body off to the glossy pages of magazines. It's an amusing human occupation, I think.

But this is serious business.

My dark, focused eyes lock onto the page. They catch every detail, from the smear of crystal blue waves in the background to the nearly invisible dent in the previously folded paper. I can see the sun-darkened tone of the woman's skin and the smooth streak of blonde hair behind her. Her shape is clear, but all of the good stuff is missing. No thighs, waist, or . . . damn, no breasts either.

I growl softly, under my breath, raking one hand through my hair. I am just about to turn the page for another shot, just in case this is all a prank, when a flash of sudden movement catches my eye. My head snaps up, my alerted gaze locking with the burning, buttery gaze of Rosalie.

"Emmett," she greets me smoothly. "What are you doing?"

 _Fuck_.

I clear my throat and return my gaze to the magazine. I lean back casually against the couch, lifting the magazine toward my face. Then, just for effect, I prop my feet up on the coffee table.

"Whoa, he slept with who?" I blink, shaking my head in mock horror. "Bet that was  _hot_!"

Rosalie sighs. Over the clean-cut edge of the magazine, I watch her eyes narrow into slits. "Emmett."

My wrist snaps to the side, sending the magazine flying across the room before it smacks against the wall and lands on the floor. I am on my feet a moment later, trying my best to grin at her. Her face is so distorted, I can't even make out the shape of her head.

"Hey, Rose." I rub the back of my neck, my gaze darting around the house again. "Where's everybody at?"

Rosalie moves closer to me, her body gliding around the table while it closes the distance between us. "They're still out hunting." There is no spark as she presses herself to me, staring up at me with a face that I can't even see.

"I want time alone with you, Emmett," she tells me in a far-away voice. The sweetness of her bright, smiling tone burns in my ears, triggering a natural instinct to recoil.

"Rose. . ."

Her sharp hands slide into my hair, forcing my face closer to hers. Her fingers, once so smooth and soft, feel like knives against my scalp. There's a flash of white, as if her smile is fading. "Yes?"

A heavy silence grows between us. I know she is waiting for me to tell her that she is perfect, she is beautiful, she is the only thing on the earth left to love. But my mouth can't form the words. Rosalie is far away in some non-existent, fairy tale world that I am no longer a part of.

_Time to man up._

I clear my throat. "Rose." I lean away from her, slowly, the movement careful but not hesitant.

There is a pause. The pressure of her body's closeness lightens. The air around me whistles sharply with her speed as she darts away from me with a low hiss.

"What is  _wrong_  with you? For the past few months you'd think you were . . . dead!" Rosalie spits the words at me, her tone venomous.

A groan rumbles in my throat as I shake my head. "I don't know what the hell is going on, Rose. But this," I gesture between us, "This is . . . something's wrong, babe. C'mon. Can't you feel it?"

Rosalie hisses at my spoken thoughts, making it clear that she doesn't feel it at all. Her teeth grind together, making a sound similar to nails on a blackboard in my ears. " _Fine_. I need a minute.  _Alone_."

In a flash of a golden wave of hair, she is gone.

I stand there for a minute, assessing how I handled the situation. I sigh heavily, letting out a strong gust of air while turning my attention to the glass window. A burly, tall, muscled man stares back at me, a smirk etched on his face.

"Looks like it's just you and me, hot stuff," I tell him half-heartedly.

The man in the window flickers, his image blinking before disappearing. I glance up at the sky as a heavy dark cloud slides across the rounded moon. The forest is swallowed in darkness. I shake my head again and allow my gaze to skim across the forest, searching.

The dark forest calls to me, wanting to drag me in. I remain behind the glass, trapped, as I slowly tick away backwards, counting the months away. When I reach the fourth one, my mind pauses on the dark blue gaze of a white wolf. I can feel the world pause and sense the forest hush as it holds its breath.

Is that really the reason for what is happening? A wolf?

I shake my head once and turn back away from the glass, just as the front door creaks open, pushing the white wolf out of my thoughts once more. Maybe it's time my family took a little trip to the dog park, after all.

I have a feeling Rose won't be coming along. 


	28. Unexpected Company

_"Taking a chance in my life_  
 _Hoping you feel the same way as I do tonight."_  - Michael Buble.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Eight

Unexpected Company

* * *

*Jordan*

I find myself out in the dead of night once more. I am alone with only the dark, enclosing shadows of the trees and the song of the wind to accompany me. My scattered thoughts flow smoothly now. There isn't anything for them to interfere with anyway. My mind is only focused on one thing: him.

Sam has informed the pack that patrols will not be needed tonight, specifically due to the lack of vampire appearances. It's a stupid move, considering we are supposed to be hunting down the redheaded leech right now. Still, I am able to finally take advantage of being alone. He thinks I'm out on a walk. It's not a lie; I actually am walking through the forest. Sam never will never leave me alone if he knows what I'm about to do.

Things are better that way.

I lean my weight forward, hovering over the edge of the black water. For just a second, I raise a paw as if to cross. My blurry reflection shines back; the dark blue gaze of the white wolf is troubled. I shake my head violently and huff before pulling myself back to the Quileute side.

This decision isn't rash. I have had many silent hours to debate what I am about to do. Now, I need to find him. The Cullen. As strange as those words sound while they hummed aimlessly into my ears, I know they are true. I know because even one day after seeing him, after the insane moment when his gaze pulled me out of the reality of my world, I have been driven  _nuts_ in his absence.

Flames burn behind my eyes with a blistering heat so intense, not even the heavy rains can wash it away. I am numb, my reflexes controlling themselves and my mind rushing forward at hundreds of miles per hour. Empty as I am, my chest still carries the same ache that weighs me down. I am falling apart. I am split into pieces, like a puzzle.

A puzzle can't put itself back together on its own.

Suddenly, my decision is final. I lunge forward, my body whistling through the air and across the river before I land silently on the other side. I blast through the forest, inhaling the unfamiliar scents of this side of the border. Foreign scents and sights whirl through my brain, but I am only focused on one thing. Him.

My life is about to change, for better or for worse. I can feel the chill in my body, my instincts and brain working to try to make sense of it all. I know that I have to do something before I am too far gone, lost in the insanity of my human mind. There is a chance this all might be one of life's jokes. He is the enemy, after all.

But, he's all there is. And I think I'm ready to take my chances.

*Emmett*

This time, I'm not on the couch. Not that I have anything against it, I've had some  _really_  good times on that thing.

Moving on.

I toss a baseball absentmindedly, my hand darting up to snatch the tiny object in mid-air without even having to look. The family is out hunting again, leaving me behind with Rose. It's supposed to be quality time, or something like that.

The forest is still and hushed. I pace near the window, my gaze focused outside. Sheets of rain wash the forest clean. Breeze whistles through the leaves, the sound drowned out by the howl of thrashing winds. A normal person can't see anything unusual about the average Washington weather, but I know something is coming. I can sense it.

Rosalie sighs from the couch. "Nobody is out there, Emmett. Carlisle is leading them all the way into the mountain ranges." There's a crinkling sound as Rosalie turns a page in her magazine. "Our family must feed in case poor  _Bella_  needs more protection."

I take another step forward, a smirk rising on my lips. "You can't blame him. He has to be careful, especially with a human who is so intent on getting it on with him. If Edward keeps her waiting much longer, she might go wacko. We need to be ready to defend ourselves as well."

She doesn't find this to be very humorous. Rosalie's stare burns into the back of my head. "Come away from that window."

My brow furrows slightly, but I still wear my signature smirk. "I'll leave if nobody shows up in the next . . . ten seconds."

Rosalie sighs again and slaps her magazine down on the end table. She tosses her hair back and raises one eyebrow. I don't have to see her expression to know she is glaring. I flash a grin and return my attention to the raging storm.

One…

Two...

Three...

Three and a half…

Four...

Five...

Six...

Seven...

Ei-

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there is a sound. Right on the door, a bold slam, as if someone is knocking on the door. I cast a grin at Rosalie, not holding back a chuckle.

Lesson learned: always trust the hot guy.

Rosalie is on her feet in a minute, spitting out words too quickly for even a vampire to understand. Knowing that Rosalie is only going to cause trouble, I step in front of her to block her path and open the door, knowing who is here before the wind can even carry her scent inside. Behind me, Rosalie growls menacingly, obviously thinking one of two things: One, the visitor is a threat. Or two, the visitor is a problem and only complete hostility will solve everything.

I think she is leaning toward number two, but I can't be too sure because in this moment, everything else fades away.

The shock and irony is too much for me to even think straight. This is a perfect opportunity for a joke, but my thoughts are elsewhere as my eyes catch the figure of our visitor.

If it is possible, I think I might have drooled a little.

I'm hit by the smell first, but it's sort of attractive in a completely odd way, of course. Her legs move carefully, one in front of the other. Rain slides over her skin, catching in her clothes and causing them to cling to her form. Her body is clear and in focus, every line and curve in full view. I allow my gaze to travel upward slowly, taking everything in.

As I study her, I can see the wolf within clearly. I remember everything about that day, all of it rushing back to me. I remember how she was standing, I remember her fur being ruffled from running in the wind, and her eyes, dark blue, staring at me with something more than just curiosity. I remember who she was standing with, who she was standing next to, and how she moved lightly, despite her size. I can still feel the touch of heat to her body, and how she was so  _alive_. Every microscopic detail is ingrained in my mind. She is fascinating. And here she is, in her human skin, her breath warming the air around us and her heart beating strongly.

I stand there for a minute until I meet her eyes. The intensity and familiarity of her silent, dark stare sends a shock through my body. I pause for a moment, my mind scrambling to catch up.

The wolf woman needs no invitation. She steps inside, taking her time. Her eyes never leave mine. I close the door slowly before smirking and stepping back, my arms folding across my chest. The tension is already brewing, but the wolf woman doesn't even seem to notice.

"Mmm . . . this is great, really," she mutters sarcastically to herself. The wolf's gaze darts around the room, taking everything in. She seems comfortable in her own confidence, as if she isn't randomly helping herself into a vampire's house. At least, it seems like that until her gaze lowers onto Rosalie, who is frozen in the middle of the room, her lips pulled back to reveal her gleaming white teeth.

"Oh, look, a welcoming committee. Lovely." The woman's jaw sets.

"Just who do you think you are,  _dog_?" Rosalie snaps. She slips into a crouch, her coal black eyes locked on the wolf.

The wolf gives a smirk, her eyes shining with a sort of smugness. I grow amused as I watch her —no other has ever dared to even look at Rosalie twice when she gets angry. I hang back, hoping for a catfight of some sort.

"Who am I?" The wolf laughs softly; it's low, taunting. "To you, a nightmare. A terrorist. Bitch. Murderer. Rebel. You put the tag on."

I choke back a laugh. Something instantly makes me like this wolf—woman.

Rosalie doesn't seem to have warmed up much.

"Interesting list, mutt. Now leave," Rosalie hisses warningly, and then glances back and throws her arms around me possessively.

Her arms feel awkward around my body, but I don't push away. I stand frozen in place by the raw ferocity of the wolf's glare. She shifts her stance, leaning forward. "Why don't you shut the fangs, Barbie, before I shut you up myself?"

Rosalie hisses once more. "You—"

"Hey now," I interrupt. Both eyes settle on me, piercing deeply. I shake my head and unwind Rosalie's arms from my body, giving myself some space. "Let's have some manners please, ladies."

Rosalie glares murderously at me, but gives in with a huff and stalks back to stand beside me, her arms crossed. The wolf shakes her head slowly, her expression still dark, although underneath, I can see the smirk that she isn't allowing to form.

"Why are you here?" I continue to stare at the wolf.

She raises her gaze once more. Our eyes meet, looking deep below the surface. A shudder passes down my spine, but I ignore it, focusing on the smooth sound of her voice.

"That's what I'd want to find out if I were you, but with the blonde from hell throwing a hissy fit, things won't go anywhere now, will they?" The wolf raises an eyebrow at Rosalie, who chooses to fume in silence.

"Good." She nods and shifts her stance, standing straight. Our eyes meet again, and she continues to speak, her words flowing from her mouth as if she finds it completely natural to speak with me. "On that night a while ago, something happened when you jumped that line and I nearly slaughtered you. I know what happened, but it doesn't make sense."

She trails off for a long moment. I stare into the pools of dark blue, focusing hard. I find myself stuck in her eyes, seeing the walls she's putting up as she speaks. I don't want the walls up; something tells me if they do rise, she won't stay.

Rosalie's mouth opens as if to speak, but I step forward and cut her off. "What happened, then?"

"I  _imprinted_  on you, Cullen. Imprinting is a claim, a wolfish way of finding a soul mate, but hell, even I don't know if imprinting is real. All of this might be bullshit, another trick of my own head. This is screwed up, but I couldn't help myself."

One solid thought passes through my mind: wolf-woman isn't lying. I hear her words in my ears and my shoulders drop slightly, my posture relaxing further. I find myself staring, but I can't help it. The amazement has returned, and it slowly captures me, pulling me away from the world as if it really is only the wolf and me.

Silence hangs over the three of us as I allow all of this to settle in, but it doesn't last. Rosalie launches herself forward, spitting and thrashing, her teeth bared as if she is going to rip the wolf's throat clean out.

"Who do you think you are?!"

The wolf moves forward, her body shaking as if she has had enough of Rosalie. My arms snap out and catch Rosalie by the waist, pulling her back. Rosalie struggles uselessly against me, her attempts weakening by the moment.

"Jordan Uley, nothing less, nothing more." She smirks and then glances between the two of us. "Wanna have a go, Blondie? I break more than nails."

I know that she says this only to provoke Rosalie, and once again, I am amused by her guts. Rosalie is instantly set off. I open my hands, and she is gone in a blur of white.

Rosalie charges toward the wolf—Jordan—with incredible speed. The wolf isn't at all distracted or shocked. She only scowls, a low growl rolling from her throat. She simply steps to the side and makes a sharp turn, her foot swinging into Rosalie's back with a sharp crack.

Rosalie crashes into the wall, leaving a dent in the wall. Esme won't be too happy about that, but nobody considers what will happen; all of us are trapped in this moment. Rosalie drops into a crouch and shrieks.

"Stupid  _mutt_! You're wrong, you  _beast_  of a woman!  _Wrong_! You think you can take claim on  _my husband_? He's mine! Nothing happened between you!  _Nothing_!"

I want to step in, but it's not necessary. The wolf laughs at Rosalie, her teeth flashing in a grin. She draws out a tiny silver object from her pocket and waves it mockingly before Rosalie.

"One flick of this, and you'll be deader than you already are," Jordan taunts with a dark glint in her eye. "One flick…"

"Go ahead and try it!" Rosalie spits.

With that, Jordan's body explodes. Her form changes in the blink of an eye. One moment, the woman is there. The next, a huge white wolf crouches in our living room, low growls rolling from her mouth. The thunderous beat of her heavy heart is the only sound in the room.

Now seems to be the time for me to step in.

"You're gonna get your ass kicked, Rose," I say lowly, my eyes locked on her form as she starts to crouch to defend herself.

The white wolf slams a paw on the ground in a gesture of agreement, snarling. Rosalie, stricken with shock, leans forward slowly. She hates cussing just as much as she hates a man without manners. Her golden eyes flicker over me, then narrow.

" _Excuse_  me?"

I turn to face Rosalie, staring at the meaningless shape of her form. I almost want to throw her out now, but something stops me. I slowly process how to word what I need to say. Something like, "Hey, babe, sorry, but I've gotta side with his wolf. She's so damn fascinating. See ya!"

Even I know that now is not the time for any of that. Instead, I fix Rosalie with a stare, feeling both of their gazes rest on me. I say something completely brilliant that gets my point across without having to make an inspiring speech.

"No, Rosalie."

Rosalie stares, the fumes of her anger polluting the air. She gives another hiss, and then screeches. "I can't believe you would go against  _me_ for  _that!"_ She darts forward, standing before me, her cool breath blowing across my face. She searches my eyes for a long moment as if trying to find the joking gleam in them. When she finds none, she speaks slowly, her words bitter.

"You _will_ regret this!"

Rosalie turns on her heel with another screech of fury. She darts out the door and slams it behind her with all her might. The doorknob rattles, screws clattering to the ground while rolling across the floor.

I pick up a screw, turning it in my fingers before I look at the white wolf. We both stare at each other, not saying a word. But if it's possible for a wolf to smile, I swear in that second, she does.

 


	29. Electric Encounters

_"I am done with my graceless heart_  
 _So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart_  
 _Cause I like to keep my issues strong_  
 _It's always darkest before the dawn."_  - Florence and The Machine.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Nine

Electric Encounters

* * *

The room grows so silent I swear I can hear the breeze swish through the air and brush across my skin. I stand for a moment, feeling the wolfish expression on my face slowly falter before falling completely. I blink for a moment, hearing the heavy  _thump, thump, thump_  of my heart echo through the room.

I can feel his gaze on me. The tingle of electricity creeping down my spine alerts me of it right away. I flatten my ears and allow my gaze to flicker around the spotless house before I charge right through the door, shooting into the forest.

My form shifts under the cover of the trees, the shadows cooling down my overheated body. I suck in a deep, chilling breath of air, and then puff it out. My hands slide through my hair, clenching as they pull against the roots. I need another breath.

"What the  _hell_  is going on, Uley?"

I whisper the words with a flaring fever, allowing a low growl to slip through my teeth. My temper rises, burning hot once more. My mind spins out of control, creating a humming buzz in my ears. Another breath exhales.

_Think._

_Breathe._

_Focus._

The commands are bold in my mind, highlighted with a practiced calm that is hidden deep inside me. I inhale slowly, tasting the flavors of the forest in my nostrils as I lean over and slide my tattered clothes over my body. My eyes shut for a moment as I think, fighting back the tireless pounding in my skull.

My movements are quick yet swift. I release one final breath before I force my gaze back onto the large, fancy house. Who would ever think that a damn leech family has riches?

_Stop that._

I shake my head once, clearing the thoughts. My pace is swift and unhurried as I hop up the stairs, clearing the porch in a single stride. My gaze drops to the glass doorknob. I pause, my muscles tensing and relaxing a thousand times a minute. I stare, my gaze completely locked on the knob as I gather myself, slowly pulling myself back together again.

The door swings open before I can even reach for it. The Cullen flashes a smile, dimples at the edges. He pulls the door to his broad chest before stepping back and gesturing inside.

"Do come in," he insists in a deep tone that's softened with humor.

Something about his expression pulls me in. I can't resist. I find myself walking right into the house as if it is completely normal for the wolf to enter a leech den, much less be invited in.

The Cullen hums to himself as he darts over to the couch before slowly taking a seat on it. I pause mid-step, watching as he leans back. One arm is slung over the back of the couch, his muscles flexing with the movement. I have to force my eyes back onto his face.

"Hmm." He strokes his chin with his fingers, studying me again. His expression is more serious now, but I can see straight through it, finding the teasing underneath. The Cullen's lips twitch into a smirk. "You sure are different from everyone else who comes here."

I find myself nodding as I lean my weight back into a comfortable stance. I still don't lose my defense; my senses remain on high alert. "I would think so."

He lets out a breath as he slides his other arm around the couch, adjusting his body. "I mean, most of our guests come fully clothed. But this is a change that I don't mind at all." The Cullen's eyes flicker to my torn strips of clothing, and he coughs to hide a laugh, but ends up chuckling despite himself.

I don't move. The sound of his laughter is enchanting, freezing me in place. I study the movements of his face and he grins again. He turns his head back over to me, his eyes meeting my own.

My gaze is glued on his, unable to move. I find myself searching through the darkened golden hue of his eyes, searching for that cold, empty pit that I see in every other leech. But instead, I am hit with a light—a spark of light, shining deep in a pool of humor. It is almost as if I can see straight through his eyes and into his mind. It is a mind so clear and open; the kind of mind I will never have.

I don't realize that I am staring until the movement of his lips curling back wakes me back up. The Cu—Emmett is grinning at me, one of his eyebrows raised questionably. There is a small shiver of heat inside me at his expression. I inhale sharply and straighten my posture, sliding a hand through my hair. My scattered thoughts scramble to catch up.

"I have a staring problem," I murmur smoothly.

Emmett laughs. "I've noticed." He rubs the back of his neck and is on his feet in a moment, turning to offer a hand to me. "You look like you could use a tussle. Ya know, just to lighten up a little bit."

I can see that he is joking as he stretches out his hand. I find myself ducking while rising to my feet on my own. I lean forward, refocusing as I shift into a fighter, only keeping in mind the location of his hand as it falls back into place. I don't know why I do it, but there's just something about him that draws me in.

"The feeling's mutual."

He chuckles, shaking his head as he crouches too, his hands out in front of him. "Just don't try to tear my head off this time. I kinda need it."

And so it begins.

By size, other than my height, I don't appear to be much of a challenge. The flexing of the bulging muscles of his biceps and the confidence in his smirk is all a show—he is trying to intimidate me. Internally, I am laughing. No challenge? Right. He is underestimating me; I can see it in the form of his smile.

Underestimation is almost always the fatal mistake of my prey.

When he lunges, a streak of white, I am ready. I duck down, feeling the wind of his speed brush across my neck. Somehow, I feel the need for defense—I can't picture laying a hand on him just yet. His rocky, cold, smooth skin clashes with my own. The Cullen is favoring his strength over strategy; he is handing me an advantage.

My movements are swift and sudden. His arms snaps out to the side, a frustrated rumble growing in his throat. Two muscled arms swing forward as if expecting to catch me, but they meet empty air. I pivot my foot back and strike his side, the blow forceful but light. The Cullen gives an angry but surprised grunt as he crashes into the crouch. I straighten my posture and smirk at him, allowing my amusement to shine.

The Cullen shakes his head in disbelief, jumping to his feet, his nostrils flaring as his narrowed eyes study me. "Again!" he demands a moment later, the clarity of his voice booming through the room.

"I don't fight like a girl." I lean forward, still wearing a smirk as I raise my hands and shift my body from side to side tauntingly. His eyes trace my movements, evaluating.

In a heartbeat, the Cullen lashes out again. I stare at his body in motion, momentarily frozen as I lose the desire to fight back. His hand catches my throat and causes a prickling sensation, ice against fire. The heat of my body starts to climb, giving off the alarm that the wolf inside me is stirring. I instantly tense. My dark blue gaze reflects in the icy pools of the Cullen's.

A few tense minutes tick by and he still doesn't move. I clear my throat, feeling my heart pulse against my ribs. "What are you  _doing_?"

I am answered with more mysterious silence. His golden gaze is highlighted with curiosity; his eyebrows crinkle as if he is focusing on answering a question he can't quite figure out. The hand on my throat loosens. Satin smooth fingers tenderly brush along the line of my collar and shoulders, the coolness of them relaxing my body, shutting me down.

For a moment.

I blaze, an open fire, ready to melt. The Cullen—Emmett—only stares at me. The intensity of his stare pins me, locking every muscle in place. I find myself staring back at him, burning and blazing and . . . awed?

If I was not so caught up in the moment, I would've pick up on the frantic screech of shoes on wood. But my mind never processes the sound until it is too close. Too late.

Emmett raises his head as I do. We are no longer alone.

The vampire explodes into the room at a speed comparable to a flash of lightning. By the time I refocus, a different bloodsucker is hovering over me, his hand constricting my throat. His honey colored hair waves shortly around his head, his eyes pure black and narrowed into suspicious slits. The crook of his arrogant smile instantly suggests bad intentions.

"A wolf over the line." The vampire chuckles as if the situation is humorous. "What a pleasure it will be to take this one out. It's been a while. May I do the honors, Em?"

My nostrils flare. I can almost feel the widening of my eyes as my pupils dilate. Emmett blurs into the background, his hand waving toward me as he tries to explain. The black pits of his hungry eyes show no concern for what Emmett has to say. He is a predator, and not even the warning words of his brother will stop him.

Seconds later, two other white blurs flit into the house, darting around the three of us. I hear a shout as they circle me, shooting an endless stream of demanding questions at Emmett. I stand, tensed and boiling, the wolf rising inside me.

This is going to get ugly.


	30. Compromise

_"And the days will come and go_  
 _And the band will march along_  
 _Till the day you cast a shadow_  
 _that looks nothing like your own."_  - The Dead Weather.

* * *

Chapter Thirty

Compromise

* * *

"Get off her, bro!" Emmett booms. He shoves himself toward the attacking Cullen, his expression no longer containing a sliver of humor. His pale fingers latch onto the Cullen's shoulder, prying him off of my heated, shaking form before tossing him back into the opposite wall. I brace my body back, my jaw set as I struggle to hold myself in place.

The Cullen gives a feral snarl as he crashes into the wall. Cracks spread on impact, and large chunks crumble off, scattering across the floor. The Cullen hops to his feet and charges through the furniture toward Emmett, plowing through any obstacle in his path. His eyes are tainted a deep onyx hue, having not a trace of color to them. Emmett drops back to crouch before me—either to block my way or protect me—and grabs the crazed Cullen by the shoulders. I catch a glimpse of the wild expression on his own face as he slams the Cullen to the ground with raw, unwavering strength.

This is not the ugly I assumed it to be. This is actually sort of pretty, as far as watching Emmett in action goes. I stare openly at the two of them; I can't find myself wanting to make him stop.

The other Cullens seem to disagree. In a flash, the two are pried apart. A serious-faced blonde male stands between them, his hands calmly braced at his sides. He turns his head from side to side, looking between them silently, measuring their expressions. I recognize the serenity of his expression from the pack mind and instantly match it—this is the Cullen leader. I brace my hands against the wall, knowing enough to make sure I don't do anything questionable while the leader is present. I force myself to remain still and fade into the background.

There's a sudden movement as another Cullen leech makes his presence known. He has been in the room the whole time, but he hangs back, only observing. The Cullen slips in between the quarreling two, hovering behind the leader. His expression is a storm of emotions, all clouding his smooth features and darkening his expression. The bronze hair and moody appearance instantly triggers another recognition. Jacob's thoughts frequently star him as the human-obsessed Cullen, the Cullen who is chasing after his Bella. His name is . . . Edmund? No, Edward. His name is Edward. Edward plants himself in place, staring at Emmett with unmasked intensity. He goes completely still, almost appearing to be nothing more than a carefully sculpted statue.

A long, heavy silence hangs over the room, all until one of them can no longer take it. The honey-haired Cullen spits through his teeth, his gaze shooting straight through the Cullen leader, set on Emmett. "What has gotten into you, Em?"

Emmett doesn't seem to take notice of the hostility in his tone. The aggression in him has disappeared, almost as if his humor never left. He laughs quietly while shaking his head. "There's not a single thing wrong with me, Jazz. Never has been."

The Cullen hisses sharply, leaning forward. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Jasper, please," the leader asks slowly, raising his hands before him. "Allow Emmett to explain himself. There is no need for any dispute."

"No need for dispute?" The Cullen's dark gaze seems to grow impossibly darker. "Then why don't we allow him to explain why he has let a _mutt_  into our home?" He doesn't give the leader a chance to respond. He jerks into a straighter stance, radiating waves of negativity. His eyes dart straight over me, only resting on me for the smallest fraction of a second before settling on the door. "Esme, Alice! We might as well get their opinions too, seeing as they will be involved in whatever this is."

I move my gaze to the other side of the room as yet another Cullen leech enters. She seems to have been listening; her eyes are wide and worried. She smiles gently at her family as she enters, stopping by the leader's side. Her gaze continues to travel around the room before finally landing on my tense form.

The Cullen gasps lightly, gripping the leader Cullen's arm. He leans down to whisper something to her, but she still doesn't relax, her stare frozen on me. She places a hand over where her heart should be and blinks at me. "Oh dear! This must be so hard on the poor girl. We shouldn't have been so hard on her, jumping to conclusions." Her gaze darts over to the honey-haired Cullen with a disapproving frown.

"No need to fret, sweetheart," the leader soothes.

"Nonsense! Rose will come back, of course, but we should not have been so rude to a  _guest_ , no matter who they may be." The Cullen stretches her hand in my direction, wearing a sickeningly warm smile. "Hello, dear. I'm Esme."

I find myself scowling at the extended hand. All of the Cullens are flooding in so quickly, bringing their contrasting emotions with them. It's enough to make my head spin. I stare at the hand, swallowing back a sharp comment. I glance at Emmett, who is giving me space, standing back with his arms folded to his chest. He smirks and raises his eyebrows at my gaze, gesturing for me to continue.

Swallowing back my own disgust, I tear my gaze away from Emmett. I force my eyes up to the female Cullen and nod once in a curt gesture of acknowledgement. Her smile still doesn't falter as she drops her hand and places it on the leader's arm. The two duck their heads together and continue murmuring to each other as if nothing has happened.

I shift my stance, naturally uncomfortable with the silence, each muscle in my body tensing. I am about to move up and say something, but the moment I open my mouth, I catch a whiff of another leech scent. Wonderful.

Moments later, another streak of white shoots through the room, stopping by the honey-haired Cullen. The Cullen is a runt—scrawny enough that I swear I can wrap one of my hands around her and pitch her right back out of the house like a baseball. She pays me no mind, almost as if she has been eavesdropping and is well aware of my presence. The scrawny Cullen whispers fiercely to the honey haired Cullen, exchanging brief glances between the others. While they take the time to reunite with each other, I "familiarize" myself with the Cullens by assigning them each a nickname. The leader, for the leader, and Hen, for the leader's partner, due to her instincts that remind me of a mother hen. Mind Reader, for Edward. Moody, for the honey-haired Cullen. Of course, the runt deserves the name Tiny, and finally, Emmett, because his name already sounds just right.

 _Such a lovely family_. I nearly smirk at the thought, but the glower I receive from Mind Reader spoils it.

The leader finishes his soft conversation and raises his head, holding Hen close to him. He waits to speak until Moody and Tiny break away, each of them still clasping onto each other's hands. The leader offers a welcoming smile to the reunited couple before turning his attention toward me.

"Hello," he greets me gently, still wearing the same smile. "I'm very sorry, this must be extremely hard for you, but I am doing my best to calm this situation. To start with, may I ask your name?"

I only stare back at the leader, my gaze steady. My voice is lost to the burning of the wolf inside me; it still stirs, even though the tense atmosphere has lightened. As I stare, I can feel Emmett's gaze resting on me. Something about the sensation of his stare influences me against my own instincts.

"Uley," I answer smoothly.

The leader smiles even more at me, happy that I have given him an answer. He nods once, seeming to respect my need for privacy. "And may I ask why you have come here?"

The gently, careful tone of his voice triggers an instant need for defense. My gaze locks on his as I stare him down, my intimidation level rising steadily. Heat boils inside of me, threatening to explode and blast me out of my human skin. My teeth grind together as the seconds drag into minutes of silence, until finally, it is broken.

"Father," Mind Reader murmurs. "If you don't mind, I can explain all of this for her."

The leader steps back away from me carefully, and nods. "Certainly, Edward."

Each burning gaze locks on Mind Reader. He stands tall in the back of the room, seeming to be unaware of the tension in the room. His brow furrows as he starts to explain, his black gaze unfocused. I stare intently at him, the wolf inside me seeming to stretch as he speaks.

"Her name is Jordan Uley. She's been . . . connected to Emmett, because four months ago, she imprinted upon him. Imprinting seems to be a very complicated occurrence, but I suppose it is the uncontrollable act of finding one's soul mate, for the wolves. Jordan has found her soul mate. In Emmett. The second she looked into his eyes, it was finalized, and there is no changing it. She couldn't control it, nor could she control the pain of the separation. So, she's come to try to solve all of this."

Mind Reader pauses for a moment before shaking his head and continuing once more. "She doesn't want to be here, and if it wasn't for the treaty, she is certain all of us would be dead for pressuring her so much. In fact, she is considering trying to silence me right now, but she can't. She can't touch me, only because she doesn't know how Emmett will react. She can't even comprehend the idea of hurting him in any way. Jordan is merely acquainted with Emmett, yet she understands him completely and is absolutely awed by every part of him. And what she feels . . . it's too strong for me to explain. I . . . I've never heard anything like it. It's almost  _fascinating_." As Mind Reader finishes speaking, the stormy gloom hangs over his expression once more, covering up everything else.

Each Cullen is trapped in silence as they mull over Mind Reader's words, except for Emmett, who chuckles at Edward's last sentence as if it is an inside joke. Mind Reader shoots him a look, but he only shrugs his broad shoulders and grins at the leader. "What do you say, Pop?"

The leader's gaze flickers over to his partner. He nods to her as she meets his gaze. Hen turns her yellow gaze on me, a too-friendly-for-comfort smile lighting up her face. "We can't argue with Edward. We are happy for you, no matter where you come from. Of course, we will take care of Rose when the time comes."

A bristling sense of defensiveness surges through me. She speaks to me like a helpless pup and not a full-on killer. I almost open my mouth to comment, but Moody beats me to it.

"You both are going to tolerate this?" he demands, his stare icy. "She chased  _Rosalie_  off. What if she does the same to us? Or worse? You can't possibly believe that this  _beast_ —"

"Jasper, shh. Calm down." The tiny Cullen releases Moody's hand, only to place both of her hands gently on either side of his face. She stares into his eyes. He quiets instantly. Tiny continues to whisper to him, her tone urgent yet soothing. "It's okay, Jazz. Carlisle and Esme will take care of this, I promise. There is no threat."

"She's right, you know," Emmett adds on with a grin. "I'm pretty sure Jordan won't bite you . . . too hard."

Moody shakes his head, glowering at the floor. He stares at Tiny for a long moment before raising his head and nodding once to the leader. "What do you want us to do?"

The leader looks over each expression warily before sighing. "I think it would be best if we discuss this with the pack, due to their involvement." He turns his head to look directly at me, smiling hesitantly. "But only if you are willing, of course."

All eyes are on me once again. A feather of heat brushes down my spine and a tremble shakes my fingertips. I meet Emmett's bright gaze, the excited encouragement in them giving me no other choice. I face the door again and head toward it without answering, glad to be out of the house.

"Let's get this over with," I mutter to myself.

I slip through the door, the Cullen vampires darting out after me. Moody and Tiny ignore me completely, rushing by with Hen close behind them, but Emmett glances over his shoulder and grins, gesturing for me to follow. I shake my head and smile slightly as I jog out to the forest, my speed building. I don't stop until I hit the trees and notice that not all of the Cullens have followed. Naturally, suspicion sets in. I glance back over my shoulder, my gaze instantly pinpointing the two who have stayed behind. I force myself to continue forward, but my hearing strains out to them and I am sure to keep them in the corner of my view.

As I watch, the leader reaches a slow, calm hand out, placing it gently on the Mind Reader's shoulder. He freezes in place, looking up to meet the concerned, golden gaze of the doctor.

"Son, it would be of great benefit to have you with us," the doctor murmurs.

Mind Reader and the leader stare at each other for a moment. Mind Reader appears to be panicked, his eyes flared wide and black; his expression is stiff with fear. He is only frozen for a moment, though, as he then averts his gaze and nods once before darting out the door.

Suddenly, I understand why Jacob doesn't like the mind reading Cullen.

()()()

I never imagined myself leading leeches, my darkest enemy, out through the forest and toward my own precious tribal land. But hey, there's a first for everything.

Tiny, Moody, and Hen are already lined up near the river by the time I get there. Hen senses me coming and glances back, slowly retreating away from the river as if she is afraid to spook me away. I shake my head at her and stand firmly on the ground, cupping my hands around my mouth before letting out three sharp, loud wolf-calls. I pause, tilting my head to the side as the sound echoes into the distance. Moments later, a chorus of howls rises over the trees in response.

They have been waiting.

The rest of the Cullens arrive at different points, all of them stopping far behind me and ignoring my presence completely. Emmett is the only one who pays attention to me. His scent hits me the moment he arrives, alerting my senses all over again. I can feel his gaze as it slowly slithers down my back, taking in the sight of my stance. A strange tingle shoots through my veins, as if I have been hit with a bolt of lightning. The feeling leaves me breathless, but it all evaporates the instant Mind Reader snaps at Emmett, insisting that he focus.

Once again, I see why Jacob doesn't approve of the over-controlling, brooding Cullen.

I stand away from the Cullens, positioning myself at the river's edge. Naturally, I find myself needing to be ahead of them, making a clear line between my land and theirs. Despite my distance, there still is a pull in me to slip back and take my place next to Emmett. He laughs loudly out of nowhere at some points, capturing my attention until I manage to pull it in again. The sound of it rings in my ears, echoing around like catchy music. I continue to force myself into focus as I wait, but one laugh causes me to glance over at him. He manages to catch my gaze the second I look, as if he has been expecting it. His left eye snaps shut and opens in a second, and then he turns his attention back to the forest, grinning as his pixie-sized sister glares daggers into the back of his head.

The wink is harmless, but something about it makes me smile. I turn my head away, gathering my thoughts as quickly as I can. Distractions can be fatal.

As my thoughts gather, I breathe in the scent of the forest. The familiarity of it is reassuring as well as exciting. The spark of the moment is pulling me apart as I debate. Is this a good thing, or have I made a mistake? Is this going to pull the pack apart? Is this worth it?

 _Focus_. The command is instant as it takes over my mind. I drag in another breath, clearing my head. I find myself counting away each breath, my locked muscles not relaxing as I wait. It seems like I have counted a million breaths until finally— _finally_ —I sense them coming.

The branches tremble across the river. The musky scent of wolves fills the air in a sudden blast as they near. I stare at the brush, counting the seconds. I smooth out my expression and focus on pulling light, deep breaths through my lips. My gaze remains locked on the brush until suddenly, it parts as the first of the pack steps through. Sam ducks his head, his nostrils flexing as he takes in the scent of the Cullens. He straightens out his stance, his gaze sweeping over the gathered Cullens before resting on me. Sam's dark eyes shine with disapproval as he folds his arms over his bare chest. He doesn't say anything to greet me; I don't even get a nod.

Nicole follows after Sam, her light eyes filled with an angry fire. She doesn't even seem to mind that her hair is a tangled mess; she steps right next to Sam, pointedly staring straight ahead, not saying a thing. Paul is with her, and I find myself watching him closely. He is drenched with rain, and his cheeks puff out with every heavy breath. He, too, is in his human skin, although it looks like he is having trouble staying in it. His muscles flex with every stiff movement and his body shakes, even as he settles next to Sam. He focuses on all of the Cullens, his gaze shifting through each of them before settling on Emmett. He wears an expression of pure hatred as he openly stares. As I look closer, I can also see slightest hint of burning, angry tears brimming his eyes.

While I study Paul, the rest of the pack files in. The sandy and light grey wolves both hang off to the side, both of their wolfish having no expression. Jared's large brown form has moved to loom behind Sam and Paul, standing even with them. Just as I turn my attention to the wolves, the russet wolf jogs through the brush, flanked by the chocolate and spotted wolves. He leads his small group to the side opposite of the sandy and light wolf. The wolf's eyes—Jacob's deep-set eyes in a wolf's face—scan through the Cullens. He sees straight through each of them as if he is searching for someone else. Seeming to not find what he wants to see, the russet wolf swings his head around to gaze at Sam expectantly. Each wolf mimics him, all except Nicole. Nicole's gaze shoots to the side as Jacob's head turns, almost as if she is avoiding his gaze.

Sam clears his throat suddenly, pulling in everyone's undivided attention. He doesn't look at me, but instead, his eyes graze through each yellow-eyed stare before meeting that of the leader. Sam nods once, saying nothing.

The Cullen leader returns the nod respectfully and moves forward slowly, as if not to disturb any of the pack. His expression is completely at ease; he radiates a simple calm. He stops to stand at the edge of the river and looks over the assembled pack.

"We all know why we're here, don't we?" he starts slowly. "There seems to have been a rather surprising occurrence—"

"I knew what you did, Jordan," Nicole interrupts suddenly. "I watched you go. I've been seeing it in your thoughts, but nobody would believe me until now. And  _oh_." She pauses as she sneers at me. "Oh, you sure have  _really_  done it this time. Imprinting on a  _Cullen_!"

I meet her sharp gaze blankly, not moving. My fingers flex as I am washed with a surge of defensiveness, feeling every heavy, pressing gaze of each wolf on me. The growl builds in my throat, but Sam catches the expression on my face.

"Quiet, Nicole," he orders sharply. He waits for her to shrink back into place before he nods to the Cullen leader once more, his brow furrowing.

He raises his hands, leaning back away from the pack. "I ask that this matter is not resolved with violence. I myself have thought of a single conclusion that will peacefully resolve this issue. I suggest that if we were to allow the pack access to our lands, the pack would watch over one another while leaving this issue alone. It seems that we cannot help the bonding of your kind, and we will not stop it. We will all respect your territory just as we always have."

The pack starts to stir at the suggestion. Teeth bare, ears press flat, and snarls openly fill into the air. I don't have to be a super-genius to know that his suggestion will backfire—the temptation to kill any vampire will be too overwhelming. Sam shakes his head as he senses their denial.

"Calm down," he snaps. Sam's jaw sets as he looks back over his left shoulder, and then his right. "This doesn't mean that they will come on our lands. We will stay to our lands, and make sure that there is no intrusion on the Cullens' part. Each of us will respect the treaty, and each one of us will respect that Jordan has found her soul—"

"Bull! That's complete shit, Sam!"

This is the first time Paul has spoken. In the corner of my eye, I register a flicker of surprise crossing each Cullen's face, all except Emmett, who flashes a bright grin. I turn my gaze over to Paul, remaining silent. It's not like I have any other choice; if I were to say even one word or make one movement, I might lose the sliver of control on my temper.

Sam opens his mouth to reply to Paul, but Paul cuts him off. "What the  _hell_  are you saying?! Jordan's 'soul mate' isn't a  _bloodsucker_!  _She_ would  _never_  do something like that." Suddenly, Paul's gaze is on me. "I'm right, Jordan. I'm right and you know it!"

A long, sharp howl rings out in agreement. The pack is suddenly in motion, each wolf drawing back and ready to charge. Teeth gleam and hostility crackles. The fire of the movement blazes in the heavy breath of each wolf, their eyes alive with fury. Moody can't take it and he breaks too, hissing and spitting out growls as he darts to the river's edge, dropping into crouch.

"Enough!" Sam roars, his deep voice firm. "All of you, gather yourselves! We will  _not_  be fighting without reason!"

Sam's order instantly binds each wolf. Six tails droop and twelve sets of paws retreat. Even Paul bows his head, letting out an angry huff. He shoots Emmett a fiery glance before he spins around and bursts into wolf form, snapping his teeth as he charges through the brush. Not a single wolf tries to stop him.

The leader Cullen glances around at the pack before retreating as well. Sam sighs once. His narrowed eyes meets those of the Cullen leader. He holds his stare for a long moment before nodding. "I agree to your terms, and we will  _all_  abide by the new rule."

"It is settled, then." Leader places a hand on the back of the female Cullen beside him, guiding her away from the river hurriedly. Moody turns to his tiny mate and takes her with him, disappearing after the leaders. Mind Reader and Emmett remain unmoving.

Emmett flashes a grin in my direction. "Well, you sure are gonna be a hell of a lot of fun, aren't you?"

Something about his tone of voice—or maybe it's just that dimpled grin—causes a smile to curve on my lips. Sam shifts his weight across the line, clearing his throat loudly. I take it that he doesn't want to hang around much longer.

"Emmett," Mind Reader snaps. "This isn't a good time for conversation. What's done is done, and Bella—"

"Oh, chill out, Eddie." Emmett chuckles, slapping his hand on his brother's back. "She'll be just fine."

Mind Reader's jaw sets. His eyes seem to darken further as he starts intently at Emmett. "Emmett, she mustn't be kept out of this. I must go to my Bella immediately."

"Alright, alright. You've got a point—we don't need her ending up in the emergency room again." Emmett casts another grin at me and winks. "See ya around."

Mind Reader visibly relaxes at his words. Emmett charges straight through the brush like a human plow, flattening everything in his way. Mind Reader shakes his head and sighs softly before darting off after him. I stay planted in place for a moment, inhaling Emmett's strangely sweet scent.

Sam is silent for a long moment, his eyes waiting to find mine before he speaks. "Come on, honey," he murmurs gently. "You've had a long day." He waves me over the line, turning his back toward the woods.

I shake my head once and pull my weight back. I race toward the river's edge before hurling myself over, landing softly next to Sam. Sam gives me a weak smile before nodding and setting off into the forest. I stare at his back, my expression darkened. Even he has the same light of disgusted disapproval in his eyes. Each member of the pack is disgusted with me, and I know it.

But for some strange reason, I just can't bring myself to give a damn.


	31. Compromise

_"There's a drumming noise inside my head_  
 _That starts when you're around_  
 _I swear that you could hear it_  
 _It makes such an almighty sound."_  - Florence and The Machine.

* * *

Chapter Thirty One

Questionable

* * *

Night falls, dawn rises. I lay, trapped under the weight of my blankets, breathing. Only breathing.

Just barely.

The crushing weight of his absence has returned, only it's lighter now. Bearable.  _He_  is real, and more than just a distant memory. He is so close; close enough to touch, to feel, to touch. . .

I sit up abruptly, the movement bringing a rush of blood that awakens me instantly. I've broken out in a sweat; a small drop slides down my neck, racing down my back. My scattered thoughts seem to have been a little too real, leaking into my dreams and corrupting them.

I've lived through teenage life without having any problems with my hormones, other than my freakish growth spurt. No need to start having them now. Even if he probably is so much more attractive to think about without the clothes. . .

 _No_.

"Damn." I breathe the word to myself, moving onto my feet. I need to get myself moving, before my thoughts are allowed to roam farther. My hands slide through my hair, breaking the tangles loose. There is no need to stop for clothes; I've been ready to go for hours now, just waiting for the sun to shine.

I slip through the hall silently, my gaze focused straight ahead. Even the house that I have spent thirteen years—minus two absent years—living in seems so foreign to me. My fingers brush along the wall, taking in the dusty scent. Everything is right in front of me, yet it feels like it's so far away.

The stairs are much steeper than I remember them to be, but they are no obstacle. I listen to the soft thud of my feet hitting on each roughly carved step.  _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8_ , and I'm down at the bottom. My feet still don't stop. I swerve around the corner, my hand catching the wall as if it's the only way to stop myself.

I don't expect the kitchen to be empty, but I still find my body tensing as I catch a whiff of the gathered musky scents. There are only two of them here—Sam and Nicole—along with Emily, Sam's new girl-thing who I haven't forgotten. Their presence is almost a set back; it pulls me back into the reality of how things really are.

Emily's tinkle of laughter trails off, her eyes finding me the instant I round the corner. She takes in my frozen form; I watch her wary gaze in the corner of my eye. She frowns, the movement pulling down the torn, deformed side of her face. Silence drowns the laughter out, as if my presence has sucked the life out of the room.

The people—my family—don't say anything. They don't have to. I study the disgust openly etched on Nicole's face as she takes in the sight of me. She leans away from the table, cringing into her chair. Sam clears his throat, shooting Nicole a warning look while pushing his plate stacked with syrup-soaked pancakes away from him. His gaze travels over to Emily as he stands, pushing his chair back. The squeak of the chair's legs on the wooden floor is the only sound made in those few minutes.

Sam shuffles over to Emily, keeping his back to me. He clamps his hand over a dishtowel that hangs loosely on the oven handle and runs it over his hands. His head turns to the side as Emily looks his way. They stare at each other for a long moment, neither of them speaking.

Nicole is the one to break the silence. She sighs as she, too, stands, collecting the breakfast dishes and moving to run them under the sink. "It's your turn to run patrol, Jordan, as you missed yours yesterday."

I flex my fingers, glancing from one turned back to another. Neither of them even glance my way. I exhale sharply and shake my head. Clearly, I have been dismissed.

No point in hanging around here.

The door is in my way, blocking my path as I move to escape the suffocation the house brings. I bash straight through it, not even minding the rain of splinters. An icy wind pierces through my skin, and the cold of it triggers the sudden need to change. I let out a sudden breath through my clenched teeth, summoning the ball of heat from the center of my body as I throw myself off the porch. The familiar fire of the change floods my veins, twisting and stretching and pulling me apart. I land on paws instead of hands and feet and take off, just like that.

Swirls of green and brown whip by, oblivious to the rain as it seeps into my fur. My senses stretch out as I make my way out to the treaty line. As I start to focus, I realize that oddly, no other wolf is out with me. This isn't a patrol; this is punishment.

Once again, I can't bring myself to give a damn.

My loyalty to my pack hasn't wavered. I continue through the forest, calculating just how to sweep across the entire side of the border on a lone wolf patrol. It only takes seconds for my thoughts to wander back to what I really need to be working out. My thoughts start to scatter, jumping from one side of my mind to another, while the forest around me turns into a mixture of scents and sounds.

_Do I push it away, like everything else?_

_Or do I go against everything I've known, let go of myself, and take the_ chance _?_

 _Do I_  commit  _myself to my_ tribe  _or a possible_  mistake _?_

 _My family, or_ him _?_

 _My brain or my_  guts _?_

_Dead ends or second chances?_

_Duty or_ fate _?_

 _Who you think you are or who you_  can  _be?_

A snarl tears its way up my throat and through my bared teeth. I lunge forward, my paws stretching out and slashing through the air. My head tosses wildly as I gnash my teeth together, kicking and slashing and throwing my weight around. The heat of my body rises, reaching its breaking point. I'm ready to  _explode_ , until I hear…whistling?

The sound is rhythmic yet sharp, cutting through the air and straight into my ears. I raise my head, my body locking down. A shiver races down my spine in recognition.

I swing my head from side to side and huff, shouldering through the forest. I'm only jogging at first, but my speed builds as some sort of emotion I've never felt before swells inside of me. Soon, anticipation floods me, and I am racing through the forest at top speed, the wind whipping across my face, the distance disappearing behind me.

His presence brings a whole new sensation. My paws seem to be sweeping over the air, my body suddenly weightless. A shock of electricity is shot into my veins, sending a new ripple of shudders throughout my body. I can't see him yet, but his scent—that sweet, stomach-knotting scent of his—swarms into my nostrils.

The trees start to thin and the whistling grows louder. The rush of the river is the only sound with the night-blackened forest. I let out a breath, the air clouding with white as it swirls away from me. I lean forward, placing one paw before the other, my shoulders rolling with each movement. I turn my senses on high alert just as I break through the trees, revealing myself. My eyes scan across the dense green foliage, landing on the seemingly glowing white form just across the river.

Emmett is there, moving leisurely through the trees. His shirt is in his hand, twirling through the air. My eyes lock on the perfectly sculpted shape of each muscle, unable to look away. Emmett knows I'm here—he stops to drop down onto the river's bank, standing just across the line away from me. Water droplets shine in his thick hair, caught in the moonlight as they drizzle down from the sky. One droplet lands on his broad shoulder, sliding down his neck and chest before disappearing in his exposed abs.

He takes a moment, stopping to stare down at the water, his dimples popping up as he grins to himself. I watch his golden eyes shine as he raises his gaze, draping his shirt across his arm. His biceps flex as he speaks. "Like what you see?"

It's not that I don't—because like hell I don't like what I see—but in this situation, it isn't right to admit it. I respond with a raise of my head, my stance shifting as I move toward him, feeling my heart flutter in a wolf's body. I mirror his stance, unable to drop my stare.

Emmett flashes a bright smile. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side. "See something special, do you?"

I step closer again, not moving my gaze. I can't answer again as the same pull draws me in, bringing me closer. One paw moves before the other, silently working through the river until I am standing face to face with him. My gaze settles on him. I'm unable to control myself; my mind and body suddenly drift away from the world.

Emmett's eyes squint playfully. He raises his hand, reaching out to close what used to be a large amount of distance between us. His touch sends a jolt of fire through me, the heat dizzying. Naturally, my body tenses, even though the fire feels good. A strangled growl slips through my teeth. The alarms start to ring in my ears, telling me to fight, to kill, but the intensity of his stare hushes it all.

The ringing slowly shifts into a dull hum. My head tips to one side, my eyes taking in the shape of him while the sensation of the heat causes my head to spin. Or is it his scent that makes my head spin? Or maybe the coolness of his breath, or the shape of each defined muscle, or the undisguised humor in his gaze as it slowly travels downward. . .

I am brought back to the present suddenly as I notice his gaze lowering. His eyes darken, changing from golden to a dark bronze in the blink of an eye. I shift my weight back, but the movement is wrong. My own gaze flickers downward, only to realize that I'm standing on two feet instead of four. My clothes are far behind me, shredded with the change and scattered into thousands of pieces.

The growl returns again, rumbling in my throat. My skin heats up, blazing like an open flame. I crash back into the river, submerging myself in the icy water. The currents tug at my skin, threatening to tear me apart, forcing me back into a wolf's body. I growl softly once more, bubbles popping out from my mouth. I shoot up out of the water, spitting out the muck. Water sloshes around my throat as I press back into a boulder, my gaze shooting up to Emmett.

"What the hell did you do to me?" I demand, feeling my fingertips quiver beneath the water.

Emmett's laughter fades into chuckles. He puts his hands up, retreating farther up the bank. "Am I supposed to know? I guess I just have that effect on women. Or you." He pauses, folding his arms across his chest as he stares down at me, his expression smug. "Can't say I regret what I did, however I did it."

My darkened gaze stares down at the surface of the water. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, my breathing slows and my head clears. The thoughts in my head continue to buzz, the alarms going off once more. I let out a short breath and look back up at him again. "What kind of show are you trying to pull? Is this some sort of sick mind trick?"

He shakes his head. "I don't got power. Just these babies." Emmett curls his arm, flexing his biceps before leaning in to press his lips to each one on their side. He laughs—the sound still the same powerful boom—and attempts to steal a glimpse of my form through the murky water. When he fails, his bright stare settles on my face. "But if I had a power to make you do what you did again, I'd be using it."

Something about his words makes me want to smile, but instead, I find myself scowling. "Yes, I'm hot as hell, we all know. But my beautiful wolfish scent can't be so alluring, now can it?"

Emmett drags in a deep breath. He glances over both of his shoulders, and then tilts his head as he looks back over to me. "What scent?"

"The—" I cut myself off, realizing that he probably doesn't find any disgust in my scent either. I exhale sharply, muttering partly to myself. "The one that is supposed to smell like shit, only it doesn't."

Emmett laughs loudly, the sound booming down the river. "Guess I win this battle. It was my turn to win, anyway."

I shake my head, continuing to hold his gaze. He's a joker, and that's very clear to me now, but it isn't enough for me to start believing that his actions are just carefree and not shadowing over any bad intentions. I pause, but only for a moment as his golden gaze causes my thoughts to travel to my mouth before I can think to stop them. Words flow openly through my lips, changed from a thought to a sentence in a matter of seconds. Damn his…effect.

"Should I regret not killing you when I had the chance?"

Emmett takes a few minutes to study me, needing a few moments to form a response. His lips curl up and he shrugs, still wearing a smile despite the question. "I don't think you will. If you do regret it…well, I just might make sure you don't."

I arch one eyebrow, then the other, watching the obvious amusement shine in his eyes. "Do you even know my name?"

"Jordan, right?" He extends his smooth, opened hand toward me. I look up into his golden eyes, catching the amused gleam in them. "Emmett Dale McCarty Cullen."

I shake my head, leaning back deeper into the water, knowing full well what will happen—or more so, what will show—if I reach over to take his hand. I meet his gaze again, finding a similar smirk appearing on my lips. "Not a chance."

Emmett chuckles as he leans away, dropping his hand. He continues to smirk. "You're good; I'll give you that, at least."

All I can do is nod, mesmerized by his expression once more. "You're not the first one to try something with me."

Emmett's eyebrows rise. His smirk widens into another grin. "Isn't that rather questionable?"

"Is it?"

He shakes his head, shrugging his broad shoulders. "I wouldn't blame them."

His words strike up yet another flare deep inside me. The warning is instinctual, but instead of moving away, my question is spoken aloud. "What do you want from me?"

Emmett opens his mouth to speak, but I don't get an answer. His head snaps to the side, his expression darkening as he grows silent. After a few seconds, he shakes his head, his gaze darting down to my hidden form. "I'll have to get back to you on that."

He flashes a final dimpled grin and then he is gone, just like that.

Moments later, a large black form pushes through the brush. His eyes rake over my drenched hair and bare shoulders. He huffs bluntly before his gaze rises up to the line. In the corner of my eye, I can just see his nostrils flexing before he growls lowly. The sound itself is questionable enough for me to understand, even without any words.

I stare at the ripples across the water, seeing Sam's dark form hovering in the mirror of the surface. "You tell me, Sam."

Sam snorts, swinging his head from side to side. He repeats the same growl, lifting his gaze toward the other side of the line again. He ducks back into the brush, disappearing. I run my hands through my hair before standing, bursting into my wolf form. I leap back out and take off after him, starting to catch up with the gathered patrol while pulling myself back together.

The day passes smoothly from there, silence and space still given to me from everyone I come across. And I somehow make it through, even though Emmett's sweet scent still lingers in my nostrils, intoxicating.


	32. First Impressions

_"Your eyes, they shine in through this shaded tree."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Two

First Impressions

* * *

Rain crawls down the window, the wetness blurring the glass. Some drops are sucked away into the air, evaporating before they can even be noticed. The lucky drops continue to hustle down the window, striving for the ground, dragged down by the mighty force of gravity. Very few make it all the way down, but some are lucky enough to survive the fall and splash onto the ground, shattering into thousands of microscopic bits before lazily seeping deep into the roots of the unexplored earth.

My eyes study the process many times over, cycle after cycle, drop after drop. The black wave of my hair rests on my shoulders, sprawled down my back in messy tangles. I don't pay any mind to it. I sit statue-still on the ground, my back perfectly erect, my hands folded into my lap. In the mirror of the window, the misty reflection of my gaze stares steadily back at me, unmoving. The dark blue depths of my eyes are filled with an intense, unbreakable focus.

The focus is indirect and completely meaningless. It's merely an exercise—clear the mind, stop the thoughts, and breathe. My stomach is full. Not with food; no, I haven't eaten since dinner. A heavy weight has settled in the pit of my stomach, weighing me down. It's not something I've ever felt before, yet I know exactly why it's there.

His memory burns in my mind, an icy fire that no element can extinguish. Blood races in my veins, carrying tiny bits and pieces of the flames in their flow. Everything about him is completely and utterly breathtaking. The boom of his laughter, the dimples in his grin, the shine in his eyes, the sweetness of his scent, the hidden humor of his words, the chill of his breath, and the firmness of his body. Every part of him is flawlessly amazing.

And I fucking hate it all.

Hate is a strong word that is commonly misused. And of course, I'm misusing it now. The sensations of him—just Emmett being himself—are stronger than any hint of fury or pain I've ever felt. It's nearly passion.  _Passion_  for someone I barely know.  _Passion_  for a being that I'm meant to slaughter.  _Passion_  for the enemy.

Sickening.

Breath leaves my parted lips in a soft breeze. I slide my fingers through the thick layers of my hair, bowing my head away from the window. My muscles lock back down into place, my body going still once more. The war raging in the front of my dark thoughts is unavoidable. I've changed sides time and time again, never settling on one for more than a few minutes.

_Go with it, end it. Go with it, end it. Go with it, end it._  The decision is impossible. I'm bound back down to earth; bound to my damn enemy. So ready to fight, to kill, to drive his species into extinction. And now this.

I'll have to break away from this, somehow. I'll have to undo this curse that fate has set upon me. This has to be a mistake, or maybe even a punishment. I can't be destined to find  _love_ , of all things, with a creature that I'm designed, trained, and ready to slaughter. He will only have to lay a hand on me, get to close to me, say the wrong thing to me, and instinct will unleash the monster. No matter how large his muscles are, he won't stand the slightest chance.

A part of me is relieved by the thought. But another part of me, the part locked up and suffocating deep within me, reacts to the thought of his death. It's the part of me that is bound to him—a part of me that has been long silenced finally starting to rise up again.

The shrill screeching of an alarm clock sucks me back into the moment. I'm on my feet the instant the sound touches my ears, my body tightening and becoming completely alert to my surroundings. My ears reach the muffled sounds of stirring people: Sam's exhausted groan, the smack of a hand against an alarm, the squeak of the mattress as another repositions to fall back into the arms of gentle slumber.

I shake my head and tear off my clothes, bundling them up before tying them to the string on my leg. I'm gone then, down the stairs and out through the door before Sam even has a chance to sit up. The others won't care much. I've done them a favor, making sure that I won't be a spoil to their lovely family morning.

On my way out, I nearly break the door down, having no patience for obstacles. The wolf in me stretches, sending shakes throughout my muscles as it demands release. I give into it without a thought, diving forward into the green maze of the tree line. The chill of the morning whooshes over my naked human skin, caressing it for just a moment before I'm gone to the wolf. My paws hit the ground running.

_How come I couldn't do this earlier?_

_Because_ —

_This is so awesome; I don't have to even talk! Hey Brady, how's it going?_

_Oh, you know, just changing into a big huge wolf and heading out to kill vampires!_

_Can we change into other things too? Oh my God, I want to be a lion!_

_You can't, but can you at least shut up for one damn second and listen? This is serious. We have to focus._

_Yes, please shut them up, Jared. We all would like a bit of peace and quiet, for once._

_Ha, look at their paws, Jared! They're gigantic!_

The thoughts of the pack mind hit me all at once. There are so many thoughts shooting through one mind to the next that the images drawn by their senses are muddled, giving only short flashes of the green of the forest and the occasional fur color. My change is felt but not yet noticed. I shoot through the forest, thundering across the ground without bothering to be quiet. The scents of the current patrol has mixed in with a new musk—the scents of two new wolves.

_Whoa, did you feel that, Collin?_

_Yeah . . . creepy. Are we changing back?_

_No, that will take patience. That feeling means_ —

_Damn, Jared, you're awful at this. Let me handle them, scrawny little snots._

I break through the trees into the light, muddy clearing just as Paul lunges out to stand over two cowering figures. Both are clearly newly phased—the excitement, shock, and fear is mixed inside their heads as if they can't decide what they really feel. Both wolves stand on large, oversized paws that slip through the wet sand as they press back against a pile of freshly chopped and stacked wood. The wolves appear to be very similar, though they are different in their colors. The wolf nearest to me is covered in an ashy-brown fur that appears to be nearly gray, while the other wears a red-brown coat colored with darker markings.

A brown wolf stalks behind Paul, his ears pressed flat but his stance at ease. The brown wolf wears an air of authority around him. I remember then that Jared has been the beta of the pack for a while now; the news of Jacob's denial has passed through to me earlier. My stare grows more critical as I study Jared's actions. He doesn't seem embrace his control or have even acknowledged it much at all.

The silver wolf—Paul—peels his lips back, exposing his long, white teeth. A growl rumbles in his chest as he hovers over the wolves, snapping his teeth at their muzzles. The smaller, red brown wolf's eyes widen. Both of them whimper, pressing further into the wood.

_Damn, Paul_.  _I think I might piss myself._ I allow my thoughts to grow present in the pack's mind as I press forward. Both of the wolves glance warily in my direction, taking in the sight of my white fur against the sand.

Paul's growls cut off abruptly. His gaze darts to the side, taking in my form as if he has never noticed me. He is quick to avert his gaze, his muscles stiffening beneath his fur. His mind scrambles before he turns to Jared.

_You know, maybe I should head off. I'm starving._

Jared considers this, his thoughts hesitant before he nods his head once.  _Okay, but make sure that you're back soon. We have a patrol to run._

The silver wolf nods back and swerves around, jogging toward the forest. He heads straight in my direction, but his thoughts are only a fading hum. His front paws slip as he brushes past my form, his shoulder jamming into my side. I give a low growl and ram my own side up against his, causing him to skid. A rumble rises in Paul's throat but he catches himself. He shakes his head and snorts before pulling himself up and disappearing into the forest.

_Oh, almighty beta,_  Leah thinks sourly, tagging onto the quieted thoughts of Paul. The flashes of the green forest slow in her mind as she halts.  _May I_ —

_Go ahead, Leah._

Jared's stance relaxes as Leah's thoughts cut off. His gaze flickers my way, his mind scanning over my firmly placed and confidently held stance. He doesn't give me a greeting, but he doesn't add on any disgusted side comment about my presence, either. It's the closest thing to some respect I've gotten since the night of the chase.

I can feel the curious glances of the two relaxing new wolves pointed in my direction. They shift around after Paul has left, leaning away from the wood pile. The ashy brown wolf's gaze settles on me.

_Did she just chase all of the others off?_  The wolf glances to the red-brown wolf next to him.  _What's wrong with her?_

I don't give the other wolf a chance to answer. I saunter forward, taking their wariness as a chance to mess around with them.  _You thought Paul was a hassle, did you?_   _He's a fucking lovebird compared to what I'll do to you. I kill, and I kill slowly, listening to your agony. And if either of you are ever, ever to try something with me, I'll be laughing while beg for mercy while I rearrange your skeleton._ I come to a stop before them, my gaze steady.  _Is that clear?_

The wolves shake as they take in each word, their forms seeming to blur. Their response is instant and identical.  _G-Got it!_

My head turns over my shoulder in Jared's direction. He is completely frozen, his eyes bulging out of his head as he stares at me. I drop my head, swinging it from side to side.  _Take a fucking joke._

Jared is the first to realize I'm only messing around. He pauses for a moment before he chortles, the sound ragged and rough in his throat. I glance back at him as he bumps his shoulder lightly into mine, his amusement flowing from his mind into my own. Clearly, his hard feelings have faded, if not disappeared. I bump his shoulder in return, careful to channel my strength into my balance instead of the movement.

The two wolves glance at Jared before echoing his laughter, their tones still nervous. I nod to them, trotting back toward the forest, needing to move.  _Just kidding. For now._

The ashy-furred wolf finally relaxes. He places his paws down carefully as he jogs forward.  _Oh, well . . . nice to meet you, uh, Jordan? I'm Brady!_

With a huff, the other wolf bounds forward, not wanting to be left out. _And I'm Collin! I'll be killing_  all  _the leeches around here._

Brady snorts.  _Dude, really? You're too chicken to even_ look  _at a girl. How are you gonna kill a leech?_

_Hey, now._  Jared steps forward, his thoughts suddenly impatient.  _We'd better get going_ — _you two have wasted enough time already. We have to run patrol and there's no time left to mess around._ He jerks his chin in my direction.  _Jordan and I can show you around a little until Sam shows up._

I nod. Jared takes the lead and I start after him, although following after another wolf feels . . . wrong. I shake it off, forcing my attention on the forest. Collin and Brady's hesitation hums in the edge of their minds as we depart. I wolf smile to myself and swing my head around, taking one last look at them before I disappear into the forest.  _Come on, you're already falling behind._

Collin and Brady reluctantly bound forward to catch up. They duck behind Jared, falling in step behind him. Our movements are silent, with the exception of the clopping of the new, oversized paws as they squish through the muck. Each thought is hushed, all fading into a low vibration. After a few miles pass, I find myself in the lead, making my way through the forest without a second thought. I'm home, in the land I've always known. I don't need any instruction—I know the forest like the back of my own hand.

Jared patiently answers to Brady and Collin's never-ending flow of questions, whether they are directed at him or not. He keeps his mind pressed into theirs, always watching. I'm allowed to let my senses wander as I head toward the river, knowing from experience that the treaty line is always the first stop. The calming scents of the river seep into my nostrils as we near.

Water levels have risen with the melting snow. The river is swollen, expanding out over the bank, reaching for the trees. My paws splash through the water, oblivious to the chill. I don't bother being quiet—the point is to keep leeches off our land, anyway. I reach the edge of the river, feeling the water suck my paws in, leaving me standing with the water up to my ankles. I huff and raise my head just as a gust of wind blows through the forest. I breathe in the woodsy musk, tasting the clear, odorless scent of water and the sweet scent of. . .

No. Oh  _hell_  no.

Strolling down the bank across the river, shirt on but muscles still in full view, is none other than Emmett. He is not close enough to get attacked, but he is close enough to cause some sort of ruckus. The minds of Jared and the new wolves are all channeling into mine as they stop. They're right on my heels and reaching the edge of the tree line. It's too late to stop them now.

Jared growls softly to himself as he sees Emmett, but it's ignored. Collin and Brady freeze, their muscles locking in place. I feel the cold realization as it seeps into their minds. They stare for a moment before they erupt into a frenzy. Both of them throw themselves forward, yowling and yelping and snapping. Dirt flies as their paws move, the easy silence of the forest disrupted.  _Cold Man! Cold Man!_

I pause for only a moment, my gaze catching Emmett's, but that moment is a waste of time. As I'm standing still, a large silver form charges past me, howling and snarling up a storm. The form hurls itself across the river, splashing through it before knocking Emmett to the ground, planting his paws on his chest.

_Got it!_  Paul turns his head to look back, his wolfish expression smug as he looks straight through me, his gaze focusing on Jared and the new wolves. I have been so focused on the forest, I haven't even heard Paul's thoughts as he joins us.

Emmett grunts, his nostrils flaring as he is held to the ground. "Get off of me!" he snarls.

A moment later, Paul crashes into a tree, a foot-shaped imprint in his fur. Emmett shakes his head and stands, glaring at Paul pointedly. He growls once before glancing over at my tense form. He winks at me, his dimples popping up as he grins.

Jared's unease swells in my mind for a moment, but it quickly disappears. He shakes his head and turns, figuring the situation will solve itself, making himself busy by herding Collin and Brady up the bank and back into the trees despite their noisy protest. I continue to stare, my mind and instincts conflicting. Paul shakes his fur as he picks himself up. His dark gaze shoots between Emmett and me. He snaps his teeth, his hostility on high.

Emmett shifts to face Paul. His grin morphs into a smirk while his eyes narrow. He crouches into a fighting stance, sizing Paul up. Paul's warning growl grows in volume. Emmett leans forward, baring his teeth at the sound.

Paul howls, the sound of it rising above the trees. He spreads his paws out and crouches, snarling through his teeth—he is accepting Emmett's challenge. In my mind, I can picture the two of them charging at each other, and that thought alone boils the protectiveness inside of me. My need to protect a side that is young and uncovered, but as I watch Paul start to circle Emmett, my thoughts change instantly.

_He's gonna kick his ass. Paul's gonna shred_ him _. Paul's gonna kill_ him _. Paul's gonna kill_ my  _Emmett._

At least, it might seem like that. But I don't even give him the chance to breathe twice.

In the blink of an eye, I have thrown myself across the river. I charge onto the bank and rear up as I near Paul's large silver body. My dead weight crashes down on top of him, knocking him right off his feet. Paul spits and snaps his teeth toward me, his body thrashing. I swing my head directly at his own. My skull meets his opened jaw, bashing upward beneath his chin. Paul howls out as his head slams pack into the dirt. He kicks his legs and thrashes his weight around, rumbling angrily in frustration.

Some side of me knows that if I continue to play the offense, I will do more harm than necessary. My weight leans back, my paws dropping down against the earth. I sense Emmett behind me and hold on to the cold feel of his presence, soaking in the sensation, letting it seep beneath my fur and hold me together.

Paul is up again in moments, shaking his head to clear it. Globs of saliva fly. I'm a heated, towering barrier before Emmett. My jaws have spread to reveal each fine point of my teeth, giving off a clear warning to Paul. Paul doesn't retreat. Instead, he lowers his head and tips his weight from side to side. His mind evaluates and tries to come up with a smart move to get me out of the way, but his temper is getting the better of him.

He snuffs out a breath and slashes a paw through the dirt before throwing himself forward into a straight charge. Paul's head raises, his teeth bared as he closes in. I let loose a sharp bark, the sound booming above his snarls. I launch forward, meeting Paul halfway. The two of us topple into the muddy river, head over heels. For a moment, I'm completely submerged. Paul scrambles on the muddy river bottom as he tries to regain footing. I waste no time in shooting out of it, bracing my paws firmly in the muck.

Paul blasts out of the surface, his snarls echoing out in the forest around us. His dark gaze locks with mine. I register the uncontrolled rage in them. For just a moment, I can sense the fear in the background, nestled into the minds of the other wolves. For a moment, I can feel the awe that the cold being behind me holds as he watches. But the sensations only last a moment. Paul barks once at me before lunging toward me with all of his might.

Water bursts around us in large waves as our bodies clash together, the heat of our temperatures seeming to set the water ablaze. Paul swipes his paws at me, his head pressing in as he snaps at my throat. I return each snarl and snap, but I don't make any move to tear at him. Instead, I lower my body, aiming at his exposed belly before I heave myself forward, knocking him back. My teeth graze his throat as he crashes down, but I'm quick to pull back. My paws drop back into the river and I huff, my shoulders quivering and my body wired with the same need to defend. I ready myself to move again.

Paul rises, but this time he makes no move to charge again. He snorts and shakes his head, sending out a spray of water. His mind burns with tempered rage as he pulls himself onto the bank. He pants heavily as he steadies himself. His thoughts flash into mine, his tone bitter and blunt.

_You really love the tribe, Jord._

My mind instantly rejects his words. I curl my lip back and let out one last snarl. Jared, who has stationed himself in the trees, out of the way, steps forward. His gaze moves between Paul and me before he swings his head back, gesturing for Paul to join them. Paul's thoughts focus only on the forest as he trots past Jared, bumping into his shoulder roughly as he passes. Jared shakes his head and nods to Collin and Brady. They glance at each other before moving to follow after Jared. The shock has worn off and they are completely riled up, nearly exploding with excitement.

_That. Was. Awesome!_  Their thoughts start to bounce off one another, coming in too quickly. They sound like over-excited children, jabbering to each other without a single pause, images of the brawl whirring through their mind as they break down each moment at it.

I listen to their thoughts before pulling my focus out of it. My attention settles on the completely relaxed form of Emmett. His golden gaze is bright with amusement as he stares after the patrol, smirking as he slides his finger across his throat. Emmett's eyes narrow again as he studies the forest for any sign of the wolves coming back.

While his attention is divided, I take the opportunity to slip behind a large boulder. I drag in a large breath, allowing my eyes to fall shut for just a moment as I bend forward. The water stirs as it adjusts to my new form, the change only taking a heartbeat. I waste no time. My eyes snap back open, my hands tearing the clothes still secured to the string loosely wound around my ankle. Both the shirt and the shorts are absolutely soaked with water, but I don't mind. I yank each piece in place in record time. I sigh quietly to myself and breathe out again, placing a hand on the rock. I know he's there before I peek around it.

Emmett grins at me casually and raises a hand in my direction, as if he's been waiting for me to look over at him. He raises his voice as he speaks. "Just stopping by."

I shake my head, moving my gaze off him and onto the murky surface of the river. Do I stay, or do I go? The choice threatens to tear me apart once again. Paul's burning gaze still hovers at the edge of my thoughts, but the pull is drawing me in again. I exhale sharply, knotting a hand in my hair. I glance his way once more. Emmett's eyes catch mine and he raises an eyebrow. I'm about to turn away when he grins at me, his dimples appearing as he does.

Damn the dimples.

I quickly wade through the current of the river, stepping onto the bank. Water runs off of me, sliding down my arms and dripping off my fingertips, but I ignore it as I hold Emmett's eyes with my own. I can almost see the pierce of my dark blue gaze reflected in the golden pools of his eyes. He still seems unaffected by all that has happened. Emmett leans back against a tree, crossing his arms tightly to his chest.

"Back for more already?" he asks with a chuckle.

The humor is normally softening, but the fun isn't over just yet. The same suppressed fury is boiling deep within me, blistering hot. I continue to approach Emmett, my steps slow. "Why the fuck are you here?" My tone is flooded with warning. I'm no damsel in distress like any other woman these days. He isn't going to sway me so easily.

Emmett shakes his head again, continuing to chuckle. "I could ask the same."

Suddenly, I'm face to face with him. My instinct goes into overdrive and I'm pressing in close to him, my gaze nearly level with his. The fury settles into my expression.

"What the fuck do you want? Spit it out, damn it!" I demand. "What is it that keeps you coming back? You shouldn't be here, at all, unless you're looking for something. The longer you stick around, the more I wanna beat your ass bloody. And you know damn well that'll cause years worth of shit, so go on, get it over with!" My fingers start to tremble. "A fight? Entertainment? Sex? Hell, it doesn't matter, but enough with all this crazy shit. I'm going  _mad_!"

Emmett doesn't reply at first. He doesn't bother to move me away from him, either. His fingertips brush the side of my neck again, stopping my furious rant in its tracks. All of the rage is bottled up and locked away suddenly at his touch. A smile curves on his lips as he holds my gaze again. "I came here to ask you if I could take you out in Seattle tonight. You know, like a date?"

I curl my fists, my teeth grinding as I hold his gaze, ready to—

I stop short as his words process. It takes me a few seconds to find my voice. "What. . . What's that supposed to mean?"

Emmett laughs, dropping his hand. He tilts his head as if he doesn't understand why the hell I've said something like that. He points to himself as he speaks. "I, wanna take you, on a date."

He rakes a hand through his hair, wearing the same easy-going smile. "It's what I came here for. It was worth a shot, even if you're with," he gestures across the river, "them. From what I've seen, you're a badass. And a badass doesn't back away from a challenge."

I remain locked in place. I don't move my stare. "I'm fucking dangerous," I tell him slowly, making sure to pronounce each word so they can't be mistaken.

"Just my type." Emmett smirks at me knowingly. "Are you really gonna reject me? I mean, I might only be completely heartbroken for the rest of my existence, but if you don't want to. . ."

My eyes trace the joking shape of his smile before resting on his eyes. I search the golden hues, probing them for any signs that they can't be trusted. They find nothing but the same light of shining humor, and maybe something more than that.

"To hell with it," I say in a murmur, then louder, "When should I be back here?"

He grins, nodding slowly in approval. His eyes hold mine a moment longer before he turns his back to me, still beaming. "I'll be back at sundown." Emmett darts away then, disappearing into the dense green of the forest.

He's just as crazy as I am. It's either that or the dimples, but something is making him completely irresistible. I stand there, mulling over what I have just agreed to. It takes me a few minutes, but I manage to cross back through the river and start to head home.

The run home is a slow one. My pace is steady and strong, but I can barely move. Each step drags as if chains are wrapped around my feet. The rain around me is only a drizzle, yet I swear I can hear each little drop splashing into the ground. I clench my teeth, practically flying through the front door of Sam's house. I crash through the living room, heading straight for the shower.

Steam escapes as I run the water. Its cloud presses up against the ceiling, frantic for escape. I soak in the muggy feel of it as I slide into the shower, shutting the curtain behind me. My hands instantly snatch up the bottle of shampoo. I squeeze a nice sized puddle into my hand before working it through my hair.

A few moments later, the calm patience is gone. I scrub my nails feverishly into my scalp, scraping at the skin. My teeth grind together, heat pulsing off the top of my head. The surge of thoughts and emotions are powerful, fueled by the warmth of the shower. Each feeling swells inside of me and then explodes, sending off a fresh wave of heat.

Isn't this how it works in all fairy tales? Doesn't one have to make a sacrifice, follow their gut, and then make things right in the end? Or do the two people fall blindly together, forgetting about everything around them? Does the pack really want me to be cut off and deprived of him, even though he is my imprint, just so that I'm folded up in a neat little space inside of me, allowing the monster to take the reins? Or do I let them all shit themselves and go at it? Is it really so bad to go after a change, if it might be a good thing? Is this  _really_  such a fucking sin?

As I dive deeper into my internal battle, thoughts start to flow from the other direction. I barely know this man, yet he has an influence over me. A man that I  _barely know_ can flash a smile at me and melt away all of my thoughts that are against him. A man that I barely know can be so important that I will go to the lengths of fighting back my own pack brothers to keep him in one piece. But this man isn't a man. He is my enemy. Is it possible that imprinting is a mind trick? Me, of all people, imprinting on a  _bloodsucker_?

This is just like a fight, I realize. I slam my damp back into the wall, both of my hands tangling in my hair, my eyes squeezing shut against the pelt of shower water. To stop the fight, I must first find the source of the attack. The source of the fight is what is allowing the weapons to fly and the blood to be spilled. I think back, flipping through each memory. Meeting eyes with him. Jumping across the line. Racing to find the leech. Gathering in the clearing. Paul's kiss. That first day back with Paul and Jared. Returning home. Being called back home to. . .

My eyes snap open as I target the source of all of this. Being called back home to not only kill a leech, but to keep a leech from hurting our dear,  _precious_  Bella.

Bella fucking Swan.

I've seen her face in Jacob's mind time and time again. I don't need to hear the irritated thoughts of the pack to know that he has caused her to be the star of the show while I have been gone. She has entered the picture and become the core of the pack, as if we all orbit around her, surviving to protect  _her_  and keep  _her_  alive. From what I've seen, her decisions decide how life will go for the rest of us. If she does something stupid, it's never a surprise, but it affects  _everyone_. I don't need to hear those thoughts from the pack mind to know that's how things are—our lives are proof of it. Here the pack is now, laying our lives down for the amazing  _Bella_ , running our asses off, and for what? To make sure Bella doesn't get bitten? To make sure sweet, caring,  _perfect_  Bella survives, even at the cost that one of us won't? Hell, forget about the rest of us. None of us can ever be as important as  _Bella_.

Eventually, I will need to take care of this Bella. I'll set her straight if no other cowering fool can. But first, I need to meet a sworn enemy at the line so that he can take me out.

I snort, my fingers slowing and once more working through my hair as I rinse out the shampoo. I can't ever expect a dull moment in life at this point.

()()()

The ruthless current pulls the river before me, the water appearing black beneath the cloudy sky. The grey, rocky surface beneath my feet contrasts against the towering green of the forest, the hues of them dulled by the blackness. I stand open on the bank of the river, my senses reaching out and my body tensed. I'm an open challenge for any unwelcome being that might be wandering out in the forest, searching for trouble.

I'm still ready for an attack. He's the enemy, and I could be falling for his tricks. I've prepared myself and come out here at sun down, as asked. My hair has dried and softly falls straight down my back, barely contrasting against my dark copper skin. Each nail is clean and my face is grime free, looking much softer with the lightly applied makeup. My outfit is nothing special—a strapless yet casual black dress that fit to my form nicely while being breathable at the same time. I don't bother to hide the Quileute tattoo on my shoulder. I'm fucking proud of it.

My hands shake slightly as I stand here, waiting for Emmett to show up. The dark forest buzzes around me, the night alive with creatures. I can hear mice skittering in the roots of trees and the slightest chew as a deer munches on leaves farther down the bank. The darkness has closed in, coming at the forest from all sides. I'm poised to strike at any minute, counting the soft, silent intake of each of my breaths.  _106, 107, 108…_

A mighty boom breaks the natural sounds of the forest. The mice freeze in place, their heartbeats racing in their chests. The deer scampers back into the protection of the forest, leaving the rest of its meal behind. The buzz is silenced. Even the gentle breeze seems to have halted.

I flex my fingers, the shaking stopping abruptly. The sound has not frightened me, but it has awoken my full alert. I fix my gaze across the river, expectant. My heart thumps quietly in my chest.

Moments later, a white flash jumps from a tree to the ground. Emmett lands softly on the bank, clapping his hands together. He stands up straight in one fluid motion, his buttery golden eyes settling on me. A grin stretches across his expression. "Hey."

His casual greeting almost makes me want to smile, but I don't know how. I nod to him, taking in the sight of his cleaned up form. He has also gone for the simpler choice, only wearing dark wash jeans and a white button up shirt. I can't help but notice the top few buttons are undone, revealing the bare, smooth skin of his sculpted chest.

Emmett takes notice of the pause, and probably where my stare is directed, too. He grins, waving his hand. "Are you gonna come over here, or do I have to come and get you?"

"I've got two legs," I say, a bite in my words.

The river doesn't seem like a barrier so much anymore, just an obstacle, and I have no problem with crossing it. I pace backward before throwing myself over. The wind instantly wraps around my form, whistling around me as I fall. The current rushes by, hissing as if my undisturbed lunge has angered it. I'm caught up in the thrill for only a moment, though. A heartbeat later, cool hands settle on my sides, gently setting me down on my feet. Emmett pulls away instantly, but he still earns a questioning glance from me.

"Hey now." He raises his hands, playfully defending himself. "I'm just being a gentleman. I hear it's a great way to make a good first impression on a lady." He winks at me before looking me up and down. "You're sure not as fun-sized as I expected."

This is the first time we've actually been so near each other, on normal terms. I turn my gaze on him, realizing it's only a few inches below his. I find myself staring at the smooth lines of his face, so perfect up close. My eyes narrow, slanting into a glare before he can notice. "Us bad asses are full of surprises."

Emmett's eyes squint playfully. "We'll have to see about that, won't we?"

He smirks, allowing the question to trail off as he darts back into the forest. My gaze lands on a huge Jeep that is parked slightly beyond a large tree root, almost as if it has been forced to drive right over the root and exploded.

Emmett opens the passenger door, revealing the spacious inside. He cranes his head over to look at me. "We'd better get going. No need to worry—I won't bite."

"We'll have to see about that," I mutter while moving forward to climb inside. A faint chuckle sounds outside as the door closes behind me. I force myself to settle in the seat, but my gaze still flickers around the wide car, taking in the simplicity of it. This is definitely a man's kind of vehicle—one meant to plow through any terrain and get from place to place, not even bothering with fancy accessories.

Not a bad first impression, so far.

A heartbeat later, the door on the driver's side swings open. Emmett practically throws himself into the Jeep, the force of the movement rocking the car from side to side. He glances at my half-suspicious expression and grins as he starts the engine.

"Do I really look that nice?" he asks, all seriousness set aside.

I glance over at his form. He is completely relaxed against the seat, his hands spread over the wheel, with his skin seeming to glow in the darkness. I breathe in through my nose, tasting his sweet scent.

"Nothing to complain about," I reply easily.

Emmett hums low in his throat, considering. He guides the rumbling Jeep through the forest, allowing the headlights to sweep over the brush beneath. "I could say the same.  _But_. . ." He gives an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "You don't wear fancy heels. How am I supposed to catch you if you try to run away?"

Amusement instantly floods me. I raise an eyebrow, averting my gaze to hide the flicker of it as it passes over my expression. "You think I  _run_ from vampires?"

His gaze travels over my body for a moment. He quickly looks back at the road, a smirk etched on his face. "Just from first glance? Nah. But a vampire  _did_  manage to lure you into his car."

My expression turns challenging, but not at all hostile. I find my muscles instinctively tensing, although my mind is too amused to find any reason to grow defensive. "Point is?"

"You're stuck with me," Emmett announces with a nod. "No running." His thumb reaches to a button on the wheel, pressing it for just a moment. Four sharp clicks ring out from all the doors. Another echoes them from the trunk.

"Oh?" I raise a hand, drumming my fingers on the window. "This glass looks like it's really,  _really_  sharp."

"And I'm pretty damn sturdy," he adds.

I lean forward slightly, my eyes narrowed. "I live to slaughter vampires. And here is one, in plain view. In just one second, your life could end." I lean away again, assessing his reaction.

Emmett flashes a smile. His teeth shine for just a moment, drawn out in the darkness. "I think you've already had your chance to kill me. But look at us now," he muses.

"Us? That's what you call this?"

"Hell yeah, it'll happen. You won't be able to resist." Emmett wiggles his brow playfully, turning his gaze on me again. "Gotta love a challenge."

I tilt my head slightly. "And how the hell is that one gonna work?"

He raises a hand, gesturing out the window. I follow the movement, my eyes taking in the rows of cars, just realizing that we are already on the highway. "I'll steal you away with my awesome driving skills."

"You might have a chance at that." Sarcasm leaks from my tone.

He chuckles, seeming smug that he has won our joking competition. For now. "Do I?"

"I never went to high school." I work my jaw, trying not to let his scent linger in my nostrils for too long.

"Ooh, drop out, are ya?"

"Mmm. . ." I study the childish entertainment in his expression for a moment, debating whether or not to answer. "Expelled."

Emmett blinks. For a moment, it looks as if he is stunned, until a big grin spreads across his face. "For?"

"Shit," I say curtly. I don't know what he will do if he hears the truth. His personality makes it clear he won't be scared off, but what makes me sure I can trust him?

"C'mon," he presses eagerly. "Was it drugs?"

"Nice try."

Emmett grins. "I knew it." He glances at me and winks. I roll my shoulders, relaxing as I realize he's only joking and he isn't going to press me any further.

"If you get judging rights, what should I call you? A cocky jock, graduated football player, scholarship to college, only to end up as a smartass flunk living in the basement of a public gym?"

"Maybe," he agrees, going along with it. "But I'd be headed for the dare-devil path. Living for a thrill." He chuckles.

"You'd think being stuck in a house full of 'suckers would be interesting enough," I mutter partly to myself.

I pause a moment, considering my words. Talking with him isn't as I have expected it—our conversation flows easily, nearly thoughtlessly. Talking is almost as easy as breathing in his sweet scent and holding his gaze with mine. It is simple.

All until one name spoils it.

"It's great, sometimes. But not always; sometimes, I'm so fucking bored, I could gauge out my eyes for fun. When things happen or chances to actually have a little fun come up, we were always stopped by the 'possible consequences.'" He shakes his head, snorting. "Rosalie never had much interest in everything. She's a pessimist—it always ruined the fun."

Conversation has gotten too easy. I know Emmett hasn't said anything wrong, but just the sound of her name on his lips is enough to set me off. I can't control the sudden tremor that shakes my fingers. Emmett is silent for a moment, awaiting my response, before he glances over at me curiously.

His gaze rests on my trembling fingertips. "Getting a little hot?"

"I'm always hot," I remind him, catching the irritating smirk on his face.

Emmett's gaze brightens in amusement. "Then let me be your 'ice pack'."

He keeps one hand on the steering wheel, sliding it up to the top, while his right hand drops down. It rests on the surface of the small box between us, his fingers opening to invite my hand in. I stare at it for a long moment before I slide my hand into his, feeling another spark at the touch. My fingers fill the spaces between his own.

It's a perfect fit. I feel a large breath whoosh out of my lungs. The shaking quickly disappears. A long few minutes of calm silence rests between us as we both take in the spark of the feel of our touching skin.

Emmett takes in the expression on my face and laughs. He raises our hands, not yet letting them go, gesturing out the windshield. "We're here, by the way. You don't seem to have noticed yet."

I tear my gaze away from him reluctantly, and dip my head down to peer out the windshield. I blink at the unnatural brightness. The night thrives over the city, but it is still brilliant, lit up completely. Buildings tower over one another as if competing to see which one can touch the sky first. The night is dotted with the soft glow of lights in nearly every color. Despite the hour, life hums throughout the city, sending a steady flow of energy throughout the area.

The sound of Emmett's amused, deep voice brings me back to the present. "Dazzled?"

I shake my head to clear it, leaning back in my seat. My eyes meet his again. "That's what this is supposed to be?"

Emmett winks. "If it's working, then yes." He grins and suddenly stops, pulling the Jeep into park inside a wide, filled parking lot. He glances at me for another moment before his fingers disappear from beneath my own.

The door on Emmett's side opens and shuts. In the blink of an eye, he blurs around the front and is on my side, opening the door. He flashes a brilliant smile at me, reaching over to gently help me out of the Jeep.

"Is  _this_  making a good impression?" he whispers in my ear as the door shuts.

"Gentleman. Classic." I try not to grit my teeth.

Emmett snaps his fingers, leaning back up and away from my ear. "Damn. I'll try harder, then." He winks and rushes us up to the front door of a very flashy looking place. His hand catches the door before I can even reach for it and he holds it open.

I raise my eyebrow at the scents and sounds coming from inside. "Taking me to a strip club?"

He shakes his head, an amused expression crossing over his features. "Nah, I'm trying to make a  _good_ first impression, remember? And if you don't like classic, this is perfect."

I take his word for it and slip inside, leading the way. I'm instantly hit with a familiar scene—loud voices, a steady pulse of music, and a dimmed light, all except for the soft glow over the bar. A small form of a smile stretches over my expression.

As we make our way through the closely packed bodies, Emmett's hand rests on the small of my back. His chest is even with my shoulder, his body only inches a way from mine. His touch is cool and gentle, nearly static. Emmett seems to sense that he shouldn't come on too strong with me. Something about the thought of his patience makes my heart skip a beat.

We take a seat right at the bar—he doesn't even seem to consider making us fade into the background. Two tall, fit, strange, intimidating people, right at the front and center. He doesn't even take any notice, but his eyes do take notice of my legs as I move to sit down. He seems open about that as well, not bothering to hide anything.

"Flattering," I mutter dryly as he settles down next to me and raises his gaze.

"Which part? Me taking you out to possibly get drunk, or my completely innocent staring?"

I run my tongue across my teeth while my fingers start to drum on the countertop. My mind rejects the thought of holding still for any length of time, especially in this kind of atmosphere. "The eye fuck. I get that sometimes, when I decide to give a damn about what I look like."

"For me?" He raises his eyebrows, the smirk growing on his face.

"That's almost possible."

Emmett chuckles again, playfully slapping a hand into the counter. "Damn, you were just starting to get my hopes up."

I start to reply, but I cut myself off as my senses tune in on a woman approaching us. She is dressed in employee clothing, yet her face is plastered with makeup. She struts up toward us, a notepad and pen in hand. Her gaze sees right through me. She is focused only on Emmett, her sly smile seeming to be a show just for him.

"Good evening," she greets obnoxiously, ending our conversation. Emmett looks up, and she flashes a big smile at him. "I'll be serving you today."

My eyes narrow. I feel the same boil of blood in my veins already starting. Not only is she already proving to only show up to see Emmett, but she hasn't even offered a menu of any sort. It's all an act.

"The strongest you got," I cut in, not allowing the woman to speak. As she casts a burning glare my way, I add on, "With a side of 'fuck off or I'll make sure you'll never be able piss again.'"

The woman—or waitress—huffs once. She doesn't say another word, but only flashes another smile at Emmett before stomping away. I stare after her disappearing form, nearly daring her to come back.

"You tell her," Emmett says once she's gone, nudging my side lightly.

I breathe out a breath of steam, my brow crinkling. "Impressed?"

Emmett nods as he smirks. "I could have dealt with her myself, though."

"Too late," I mutter bitterly.

"Nothing to worry about. She doesn't have anything on you." He gives me another huge grin as he says it, and suddenly, all of the bitterness is drained.

I'm not so bitter about the dimples anymore.

I shake my head, sliding a hand through my hair. The pulse of the music echoes through my body. I feel a tiny part of me pulled out to the dance floor, but there is a stronger urge to stay with Emmett.

"Exactly what do you want from me?" I ask again. My dark gaze settles on his, my fingers continuing to drum on the counter.

Emmett leans back, returning my gaze and another smile. "A chance."

"If you want shit with the pack, you can just keep showing up at the line everyday."

He shakes his head with a short laugh before leaning in closer to me, his gaze staying locked on mine. His hand reaches up, running down the side of my neck lightly. The touch instantly brings a round of new shivers. He doesn't stop there, though, and his hand reaches up to cups my face. A blistering shiver races through my body as his thumb traces the line of my jaw. His touch is gentle, but firm. I can't even consider looking away from him.

"I want you to give me a chance," he murmurs slowly, fully aware of the effect he has on me.

My shoulder twitches, sending a signal to move away from his grasp, but I am rooted in place. "I'm fucking dangerous," I say blankly, my mind far too scattered to come up with a good response.

Emmett laughs quietly, pulling back away, although his body remains seated right next to mine. He rests his arms on the counter, brushing against my own, his head still turned and his gaze holding mine. "You aren't the only monster in town." He winks.

I'm filled with the same amused sensation that tugs at my lips, wanting to force a smile—wanting to make my body react in a way that I have forgotten. I only stare at him, partly because I can't do anything else, and partly because my eyes have found the revealed patch of his chest again.

"Your family doesn't want this, and neither does mine," I point out after a few seconds of silence.

"Can their opinions stop this?"

We both know the answer, so I don't bother saying anything. He grins, waiting for me to go on. I exhale softly again, frozen under his intense gaze.

"Moody doesn't approve of whatever the hell this is leading to, and he seems to be ready to make sure nothing happens."

Emmett raises his eyebrows. "Jasper?" He snorts. "Nah, he has a power, one of empathy. He was feeding off your fire and what you were feeling. He's not so bad. Usually." He shrugs. "They'll come around."

I shake my head, leaning back as I glance around the noisy, packed bar. "Gotta love a bitch with a back bone."

Emmett throws his head back and lets out a loud laugh. The sound booms around the bar, rising above everything else before the sound is swallowed in the rush of things. The waitress conveniently returns with my glass right then, as if she means to end our conversation again. She slides it over to me carelessly, causing some of it to slosh onto the table. I ignore it, knowing full well that she probably slipped some sort of drug in the drink. The waitress is still oblivious to me, though—her eyes are locked on Emmett.

"Is there  _anything_  else I could possibly help you with?" she purrs.

" _We're_ fine," Emmett insists. He glances at me and flashes a reassuring smile as he takes in my darkening expression.

The waitress moves in closer, leaning over the counter. "Are you  _completely_  sure that's all you want?"

Her words are edged with double meaning, and I don't take to it. The same defensiveness boils in the heat of my body. Emmett says something to her—I think he only repeats his words—but she still doesn't back down. My fingers scrape against the counter as they curl into fists. Only one thought races through my mind.

_Mine._

I push up off the table, breaking the seat clean off the floor. At this point, eyes are starting to focus on us, but I don't bother to even look at any of them. I move to stand right in front of Emmett, my heated hand smacking hers off of his. I lean forward, bracing both my hands on the table. The waitress shrinks slightly underneath my height and steady stare, but she doesn't retreat.

"And who are  _you_?" she asks bitterly, arching her far-too-thin eyebrows.

"Don't even try it. You're wasting my breath," I spit. "Get your  _filthy_  ass away from him,  _now_."

The waitress eyes me up and down before she sneers. "Or  _what_?"

In this situation, I don't bother with threats. The waitress is asking for it, and so I answer. The next thing I know, my hand has swooped up the glass on the counter and alcohol is running down the woman's face, burning into her eyes. The glass shatters, bursting into a million pieces over her skin. I watch as she sways, staggering back toward the kitchen before crumpling to the ground.

An uproar instantly breaks out across the bar, as if every eye has been locked on the strange couple at the front. The volume blasts to its limit. Bodies race for the door. Men rush over to help the waitress. Women pull out phones and screech frantically into them. In the background, sirens ring out their sharp scream, already on their way.

All the while, I stand locked in place in front of Emmett, my shoulders heaving with each heavy breath. Heat creeps down my spine and into the core of my body, threatening to break the wolf free. Emmett catches on quickly. He pulls out and wraps his arm around my waist, bringing me close to him. I can't see his expression or sense his response—he guides me out the back door quickly before any questions can be asked.

Emmett shoves open the sealed door without much of an issue, leading us out the back into an alley. The air outside is muggy and humid. Something about it is sour, but I brush it off, assuming it to be the pollution of the city. Emmett releases me and turns to force the door securely shut. His body shakes as he does, his back to me.

I stare at him, waiting. Waiting for his outburst. Waiting for his angry shout. Waiting for the glare in his eyes. Waiting for the accusations. My body is braced and ready to take it. Something about me knows I won't want to argue. I'll only listen, collecting in each vibe of his deep voice.

Once again, he surprises me with his actions. As Emmett turns back to face me, the first thing I notice is his bared teeth. But as my eyes continue to study him, I notice the dimples as well as the sheen of amusement in his eyes. His silent laughter slowly rises until the boom of it echoes around the darkness at a volume that might have burst my eardrums.

My stare intensifies as he leans back, looking me up and down while nodding with approval, seeming to have finished letting out his contained laughter. "Now I'm seriously impressed, Miss Bad Ass."

I slowly start to form something near a smile. "Looks like I proved you right."

Emmett chuckles again, but suddenly, the sound of him fades into background. An undeniable scent has drifted into the damp air, masked by the rain until now. It is then that I realize the sour scent was not from pollution. My nostrils detect the scent in an instant, wrinkling at the burn of it. A growl rises in my throat. I instantly shift into a defensive stance, my senses stretching as they comb over the darkness of the alley, searching.

The laughter silences. Emmett pauses behind me. He doesn't stiffen, though, and remains relaxed. In the corner of my eye, I watch as he looks around and then shakes his head. A cold arm slides over my shoulders, hovering over my skin slightly.

"It's nothing. Well, it is something, but it's not there anymore." Emmett glances around before his gaze settles on me and he raises his eyebrows, amused by my defensive stance. "C'mon, we'd better go before the police catch up."

Emmett guides me back around the building, not pausing at the corner to look for danger. He ambles through the darkened alley toward his large Jeep, unaffected by the possibility of any trouble. Once more, I find myself going along with him, not even having to think about it. I shoot one final warning look back behind me before quickly sliding into the Jeep.

The seat belt is shaped more like a harness to me. It's an unnecessary precaution—if I go flying through the windshield, my healing will fix the scratches on its own. I don't bother to even put it on, and Emmett doesn't either. I glance over as he swings himself into the Jeep, causing it to rock from side to side with the force. He settles into his seat as if it is made for him and him alone before he clamps his hands on the wheel. While starting the car, he grins to himself, listening to the engine coming to life under his touch.

I study his expression, taking in the sight of his childish enthusiasm. His broad shoulders are completely relaxed, the muscles on his arms bulging through his sleeves even though he doesn't appear to even be thinking about a fight any time soon. Rain shines in his hair, tiny little drops of it managing to slip loose from his short curls and run down the side of his face.

Staring hasn't ever been an issue for me, but it seems to have become one ever since I first laid eyes on him. I don't know how long I stare at him, but eventually, he raises an eyebrow and waves a hand at me. I blink, only to notice that the Jeep is moving full-speed down the road. I haven't even said a thing.

"We've had some problems with newborns lately," Emmett explains, misinterpreting my expression. "You know, newborn vampires. There have been tons of humans just disappearing out of the blue. The humans are starting to blame a serial killer." He chuckles as if the thought is very amusing to him. "But the signs point to something else."

Each muscle in my body is slowly locking up, the heat of my skin flaming. Emmett holds my gaze for a long minute, his hands continuing to steer the wheel on their own. My mind is slowed by the golden hue of his eyes and I take a minute to realize he's waiting for me to speak. I exhale softly. "What are they pointing to?"

"Someone is out there, creating these vampires to use them against another in a fight. The newborns are wild and untamed—they don't know how to control themselves. They only know how to use their strength to do whatever it takes to satisfy their thirst." He smirks. "I bet it all comes back to Bella. She's a danger magnet, but hey, she keeps us all occupied."

I nod, allowing another twisted form of a smile to rise on my expression. He isn't the only one who thinks like that. "Then what's so awful about these 'newborns'? Other than the fact that they're a large group of bloodsucking maniacs raising hell miles away from us."

Emmett laughs, completely oblivious to my terms. He reaches over to angle the mirror, smoothing down his rain-darkened hair. "If this anonymous 'someone' is creating all the vampires to get through us and to Bella, they're going to be showing up at some point."

"Great. Red-head and now this batch. We're gonna have a lot or killing to do."

"No, we wouldn't have to kill them." He grins at me. "We'd get to kill them."

I remain seated upright, still tensed and ready to defend myself, but a part of me relaxes. I manage to allow my expression to somewhat mimic his. "Good point."

"How come this seems to be the first time you've heard this?"

Another breath whistles back out through my nostrils. "It is the first time I've heard of it."

"Then it's my honor to let you in on the big secret," he says with a shake of his head and another smile.

I pause for a moment, offering something close to a smile once more. "What about Queen Bella?"

"What about her?"

"You're gonna have to protect her, aren't you?"

Emmett laughs once. "That's the fun part." He glances over at me. "You're a smart one, huh?"

I shake my head. "That's what happens when your mind is full of useful information and not a bunch of crap from textbooks."

He smirks. "Finally somebody is on my side!" His hand claps against the steering wheel, creating a small crack. He laughs as it breaks, and then looks back at me. "You're right, though. They could come here," he reasons.

I raise an eyebrow at the sound of his tone. "But?"

Emmett smiles to himself, shifting his weight in his seat. "Alice can't see anything. If this problem is heading our way, there's no way of knowing when. We'd need numbers, time, hell, even date. But we have nothing. It's not a big deal, I mean, we could take care of the problem. It kinda worries Edward, what with his human woman."

He is talking as if I'm a part of his family, like I've known them all along. I can fill in the blanks he leaves, though, and I assume visions are a mind trick that she has. I nod once, considering his words.

"Even if you can't save Bella, you can protect yourselves. Not that I would blame anybody for taking her out."

Emmett chuckles, leaning forward to peer out the window. "I'm getting the impression that you don't care for Bella much."

"Mmm. Good impression."

His eyes narrow as he pretends to squint through the rain. "And what gave you such a bad impression?"

I study his movements as he turns to look at me. "It might have something to do with the fact that I have this thing called a brain that allows me to think, and eyes that allow me to see. I've seen enough to get a pretty good impression, thanks to me having a brain."

"At least one of us does." He grins, gesturing to his arms. "I treasure muscles over brains, personally."

"So I've seen."

His deep laugh fills the trailing words. Another twisted form of a smile rises on my expression. I glance out the window, recognizing the towering green trees flashing by. My thoughts scatter again before zeroing in on one other problem.

"Jacob will find out about this," I mutter, partly to myself. "He'll flip when he realizes someone else might be going after his special Bella."

"Hmm. . ." Emmett muses, debating to himself. "From what Eddie's been telling me, he seems to have his thoughts on other matters."

I snort. "God, what else is wrong with her?"

Emmett looks at me for a short moment before speaking. "Bella's going to be graduating soon. And after that, she wants Edward to change her. You know, into one of us."

Looks like I spoke to soon. My fingertips quiver as my eyes slant. "Why the hell would she ask for that?"

Emmett remains relaxed. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "For true looooooove," he teases.

"Ha." I lean back, pressing into the seat, willing myself to calm. "More like so she can gather another crowd to gawk and gasp over her. How much attention does she need?"

"Ooh, ouch." Emmett fakes a wince. "Someone has a nasty side."

I clamp my teeth together. "Think about it. First, she gets this leech chasing after her. Then, she plays with Jacob's emotions. Now, she's begging to be changed, although she knows what will happen."

Emmett tips his head to side, smiling. "Not much to argue with there."

"Exactly," I mutter.

Emmett hums low in his throat, not speaking for a moment. "Does this mean you're gonna tattle on me?"

"What don't you want me to say? I have a nice list."

Emmett grins, his teeth showing. He seems to have caught onto the slight layer of joking in my tone. "Cracking the ice, letting you in on the vampire dramatics."

I don't need to think about it. "If there really is an army of suckers coming our way, and we're allowed to kill them, how can we not get involved?"

Emmett rumbles, the sound coming from his chest, low and deep. The Jeep starts to slow. "Maybe if we did come together, they would be less pessimistic." He pauses for a moment. "It wouldn't be as fun, because there'd be less to fight, but it would be worth it, so they all don't worry their asses off."

I nod slowly, my gaze still locked on him. "We're a fighting force designed for the job. If the question ever comes up, sign us up."

Emmett chuckles, his gaze turning back onto the forest ahead. Darkness is closing in around us, the moonlight that has been so bright on the road being shunned by the trees. "It could be interesting."

"You got that right," I agree.

I hear the churning tires halt in the mud, and suddenly, everything is still. Our easy conversation fades off into silence. I know this is the moment where I should tear off my seat belt, throw open the door, and charge through the river, racing back to where I belong. Only, I don't. I almost don't want to go. I almost don't want to return to the dark, unpredictable life of my homelands.

And it is him that is making me want to stay. His booming laugh and dimpled smile. His sense of humor that never darkens. The dark curls of his short hair and the burning golden life that shines in his eyes. Everything about him is calling me back. Something—or someone—buried deep inside me is  _begging_  me to stay.

My head turns slightly as I face him, expecting him to have something to say. But he is silent. Emmett keeps his hands braced on the wheel, his gaze capturing mine the second it has the chance. He flashes a grin at me, the dimples showing once more, but he still doesn't speak. Instead, he leans in toward me.

Emmett's lips brush over mine lightly. The movement is not forced or frantic—just a gentle little touch. Still, chills burst into my veins. This is the first time in years that I have ever felt cold. But it's not the terrified, bone-chilling cold. This is an excited, heart-racing ice that floods me and leaves me wanting—no,  _needing_ —more.

He doesn't stop there. He sees me shudder and he chuckles, his cool, sweet breath around my face. An electric current rushes over my skin where his breath touches, brought alive. He captures my mouth with his, his hands sliding down my back and pulling me close.

The kiss is sweet in its own way, but far from gentle. His lips work with mine in a slow motion, the roughness underneath rising steadily. I find myself responding to him. At first, my arms only loosely wrap around his neck, but soon they are tangled in his hair, forcing him to stay close to me. Fire oozes into my system, chasing away the chill. Our temperatures clash, ice on fire, burning and melting and smoldering. He is everywhere, and everything else is nothing. The rain continues to patter down on the windshield, blurring out the world around us. There is suddenly just the two of us and the fiery pleasure of our shared kiss.

A low growl passes through his lips as he feels my fingers knot in his hair. Emmett pulls away then, breaking away and leaning back into his seat. The air around us sizzles. The space seems to be nearly taunting as my body buzzes, unsatisfied.

Emmett's gaze doesn't leave mine. He continues to watch me, studying the expression on my face. He takes a minute, as if he also has to catch his breath before he speaks.

"So, you liked that?"

I stare at him.  _Liked that?_ Is that the only way he could describe it? Something that is only temporary, a little tease that is just for a small thrill. I know that I should feel rushed and I should feel disgusted. But no, I don't feel any negative sensation following his kiss. No, I don't like his kiss, either. I feel something far beyond 'like.' The feel of his lips still lingers, the fire of his kiss burning inside of me, captured in some deep, unraveled place. Every part of me is alive, brought to life by the sensations of  _him_.

Emmett is quiet for another moment. He measures the expression in my face for another moment. "Silence, huh? Well, that's gotta mean I kissed you speechless." He leans back, completely relaxing in his seat. His expression grows smug. "Excellent."

I find my expression lightening, feeling something near a smile rise on my face. I want to laugh, but I don't remember how just yet, so I settle with that. My hand slides across the seat, finding the handle. I push it open and slip out, but not before casting one last mystified glance in Emmett's way. "See you tomorrow?"

"Of course. I'll be coming back for more." Emmett winks, laughing at our own little inside joke. He waits for me to shut the door before he drives the Jeep away, not bothering to find a trail. I listen to it crash through the forest, waiting until the sound fades completely before I head back toward the river.

The rain batters at my form almost as if it is scolding me, punishing me for my night out with him. I ignore the piercing cold, my body heat seeming hot enough to blaze right through the rain. I make my way through the forest, heading for the sound of the river.

My thoughts are hushed, relaxed into a steady hum. I can't remember the last time they have been like that, or if they've ever been. Relaxation has never been a part of my schedule, ever. It's something I could get used to, if sleeping ever is more important than my pack duties.

Yeah, right.

The river comes into view moments later. It is still swollen from the earlier rainfall, and this doesn't seem to be doing much for that. Ripples expand over the shuddering surface at every shooting drop of rain, pushing the river farther and farther out into the bank, stretching into the trees.

I barely notice this, though. The second I come up to the river, my eyes instantly lock on the large black form that looms across the river. Even through the heavy rainfall, my eyes still catch the shape of the wide, dark eyes that study my every move. In the distance, I can faintly hear the steady thump of his large heart.

Sam always has been the protective type. One of the pack must have caught my scent as I left and filled in the blanks for him. I press forward, moving smoothly through the river. The water reaches my thighs, barely brushing the hem of my clothing. As I come in closer, it looks like Sam has been waiting for a while—his black fur is plastered to his skin, slicking it down flat to his form.

The current attempts to drag me with it, but I don't have any problem moving straight through. I reach the other side of the river in moments, stepping up onto the sodden ground. I haven't realized it, but my body has been tensed and stiff while on the other's land. Now, as I move onto my homeland, my muscles loosen.

Huffing, the black wolf leans his head forward. His nostrils flex and then wrinkle. He recoils at my scent before shaking his head and pacing around me, looking me up and down.

I allow Sam to have his few moments of fussing. His worrying is useless, though, and has no real reason. I shake my head and start to hike forward, my patience fading. Sam rumbles in disapproval. He jogs after me, his shoulder pressing against my back.

I don't need a guide—I know these lands better than nearly anyone. My feet plant in the mud, my body locking down. I turn my head to look over my shoulder, meeting Sam's widened eyes.

"The fuck do you think I am? I've not been four for a little while."

Sam stares for a moment before his ears press flat, his head lowering in defeat. He exhales heavily before trotting off into the shadows. I continue moving again, my senses focused only on the forest ahead. Minutes later, Sam falls in step beside me, his hands shoved into his pockets.

He takes a long while—nearly the entire rainy walk—until he musters up the guts to say something. He clears his throat, glancing at me. "How'd it go?"

I grit my teeth, snorting at his tone. "He took me to his coffin, fucked me senseless, and sucked my throat dry."

He growls lowly, flashing me a look that was once a warning. "Don't talk to me like that."

I almost bare my teeth. "It's what you want to hear."

Silence settles, thick and sharp between us. Sam picks up his pace, suddenly in desperate need for space. I continue press forward toward the illuminated glow of the distant porch light, feeling a nudge inside me, urging me to speak. My mind spins for a second, twisting; turning; thinking.

"I'll run a morning patrol," I offer.

Sam isn't very moved by my words. His cheeks hollow out as he sucks in a big breath, raking his hands through his rain-spiked hair. I watch in the corner of my eye as his throat expands slightly with a hard swallow. "Really?

I don't have to think. "Really."

He sends another wary glance in my way, breaking through the trees. He saunters up the steps before speaking. "Paul isn't very happy, you know."

"To hell with that."

There's a few minutes of the silent whisk of the winds and the crunch of Sam's heavy footsteps before he speaks again.

"You'll take the morning patrol, bright and early," he mumbles. With another glance over his shoulder, he heads up the porch, opening the door for himself.

Something strange twitches on my lips. "Good."

 


	33. Ugly Introductions

_"We are all living the same way_  
 _We are escaping the same way_  
 _Circling_  
 _We are a part of the same play_  
 _We think we're making our own way_  
 _Circling."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Three

Ugly Introductions

* * *

The vast stretch of humid forest isn't so suffocating anymore. I breathe in the natural, damp scents of my surroundings. This time, it doesn't choke me. Instead, the heavy moisture in the air is almost comforting. It's almost as if this is truly home.

Emmett has always been the missing piece of the puzzle—I'm nearly sure of that now. I have belonged here all along—belonged here, with Emmett.

I shake my head once, sending a stream of rain down my neck. My mind clears instantly, focusing solely on the forest. Time—I need to mind the time. I peer up at the sky through the dark branches of the trees, studying the thick layer of grey. Although the clouds block out the sun, they fail to conceal the dull glow of light it gives off as it rises. It's still morning, but it's getting later by the second. And the later it gets, the more dangerous it is for me to be out here.

Danger never has been much of a real feeling for me. In my book, danger is a synonym for excitement. But this kind of danger isn't fatal. At least, not yet. But it will be a hell of a mess if Sam gets involved.

Morning patrols are only a punishment. The pack members assigned to run them groan and grumble, rising up and heading out to beat the morning drizzle. Few wolves ever are sent out unless they do something that Sam finds worthy of punishment. Apparently imprinting on a leech is punishable enough. Maybe it does make a slight bit of sense to punish me for my "actions."

If it is possible to actually control who you imprint on.

Sam doesn't have a binding control on me when it comes to Emmett and my interest. He might think he does, and it's good for him to believe that, even though it's a lie. I won't let him—or anybody else—pull me back and crush me down. Not again. If he's going to try to strangle and suffocate the free will out of me, he's going to have a monstorous result.

I always have had a rebellious nature and the wolf seems to take advantage of that.

My feet have guided me stealthily across the forest, following an invisible trail. I sense the river in the near distance, but I still don't pause. I press forward, passing straight through the flooded waters. The river that has always been a symbolic barrier is almost nothing to me now. It's nothing more than a separation between him and me.

I move straight through it without a second thought.

The forest is much the same on the Cullen side. Everything is still shaded in various hues of green, although the scents are more natural—the sharp sent of the pack is absent, allowing the natural flavors of the forest to thrive without interruption. I allow my eyes to trace the treetops casually, expectantly searching the trees. My gaze skims over the branches until it pauses on a distant blur of white, perched high up in the wide arms of the tree to my far right.

He's been waiting.

"Boo," I mutter under my breath.

The white splatter of color remains completely still for a moment. Then, suddenly, it's in motion. It blurs across the forest, darting around the trees until it is settled on a wide, moss-covered trunk. Emmett leans his shoulder against the tree and looks me up and down.

"Why, hey there, beautiful," he greets with a dimpled grin.

I shake my head and press my lips together, trying hard to form some shape of a smile. As I come up with nothing, I only nod to him, gesturing toward his casual white outfit. "Looking sharp."

Emmett booms out a laugh. "It's kinda necessary for me to be dressed up for this occasion."

"Missing Seattle already?" I study the usual curl in his short dark hair and the gleam in his buttery eyes, trying to find some sign that he has prepared himself for another date.

"No. I think we had our fair share of excitement," he reasons. A shade of mischievousness breaks out over his expression. He is silent for a moment, most likely only building effect, before he speaks. "I'm gonna take you to meet my family."

I stare at him for a moment. Images of everything that will go wrong whip through my mind—most of which are filled with fire and screaming, dying leeches. I force my lips to curl slightly. "That's funny."

Emmett chuckles, the sound coming from deep within his throat. "I'm serious this time." He paces backward, thoughtlessly stepping over the scatter of vegetation on the ground. Raising one hand, he curls his pointer finger to his palm, beckoning me to follow him. "C'mon, they won't bite."

My eyes remain glued to his expression, searching for any sign that he is joking. He holds onto his usual childish gleam, but otherwise looks completely serious. I remain in the same position until Emmett starts to grin—at that point, I can't resist. With a sharp exhale, I start to follow him, taking my time to catch up with him.

"You're sentencing your . . . family to their doom," I say as I fall into step with him.

"Yeah?" Emmett shakes his head, allowing his gaze to settle on me while we make our way across the muddy ground. "I say it might even impress them."

I snort. "If murder is impressive now, I must have been gone far too long."

Emmett beams at me, not removing his gaze. "You  _could_  have come around earlier. But if you did, you wouldn't have ever found me. We were out of town for a while. MIA."

"Isn't that a shame?"

Emmett's lips curl back in a smirk. "You would have missed out."

I hold his gaze, unable to turn away from him. "Missed out on what? All the dramatics?"

Emmett lifts and drops his broad shoulders. "Any sort of happening is entertaining when you've been alive for decades with nothing to do but collect high school diplomas. Even if the events all center around an average, stumbling human. Personally, I didn't see any fun in Edward dating a human woman, at the start. The danger and jokes were about it for fun, until Bella's danger magnet turned on.  _That_  made things start to get interesting. She draws in all the danger available. And where there's danger, there's asses to kick. My specialty." He cracks his knuckles in emphasis.

I try to twist my lips into the shape of a smile—into a shape that they have forgotten long ago. Emmett's bright mood is contagious, radiating out of him and onto me. I continue to work my jaw, focusing mainly on the form of my smile. I try to come up with a reasonable response, but my scattered mind can only manage to form one word. "Oh?"

Emmett breaks out in a large grin, seeming unbothered by my short answer. I study the smooth features of his face while he keeps his full attention directed at me. The scents of the various bloodsuckers loom in the air around us, but I barely mind as I listen in on the deep, smooth hum of Emmett's voice.

"Everything was hectic at the start. Edward almost killed her when they met, because he was dying to taste her blood. But instead, he started to get all 'you are my life now' with her and it sorta got to her, I guess. Things were rocky when Edward decided everything was too dangerous and forced us all to take off, but they got back together, made up, probably made out, all that jazz." He laughs at my expression. "Everything is even more humorous now that they're back together. Bella is bringing in even more trouble, and now she seems pretty much set on getting it on with Edward, if you know what I mean."

I am still trying to make my lips take shape and am unable to think of what to say, but I have listened intently to each of his words. Even if it is possible to tune out his voice, I can't bring myself to do it. So, I settle for another short answer. "Point taken."

Emmett laughs deeply, his gaze following mine while it scans the passing forest around us. "Excellent." He pauses for a moment before his eyes find mine. "I don't get how Edward can deny her. I mean, when you lost your fur and your clothes . . . it took supernatural effort to stand there and be a gentleman."

"Mhmm. . ." I narrow my eyes. "Hold up. Did I just hear a cheap pick up line?"

Emmett ducks his head away from me, acting innocent. I can see the corner of his lips raised in a grin, even as he turned. "It's possible."

I find myself mirroring his smirk. I walk close to the rain-splattered green of the brush, keeping a small distance between us. "So, you're coming on strong now?"

"Well, I  _am_  pretty damn strong. There's just no denying it." He chuckles while curling his arm up, causing his large biceps to flex. The movement earns a steady stare from me. He continues speaking as if he doesn't notice, although a new thin layer of smugness is present on his expression. "I'm your average man, too, beneath all of my own sparkle and dazzle. Most of us manly males naturally have a trail of thought that only leads downward. But, I am also cuddly when necessary. The offer is always on the table, for you." He winks.

As I take in these words, my lips finally part into a smile. It's not just any smile, it's a real smile. I feel lighter, almost as if I have broken through a dark mask and set a little piece of myself free, releasing a heavy weight that has held a part of me down for far too long.

Emmett has moved closer to me while I have been distracted—close enough that our arms brush. His bright golden stare burns into mine while his eyes trace over the sudden smile on my face. His dimples pop up and his own smile widens.

"Shit . . . I think you just dazzled me," he murmurs.

I continue to wear the smile, although I feel my heart start to skip at his words. He still doesn't seem to know what he's getting himself into. An impulsive surge of warning fills me. I stop for a moment, feeling my feet sink slightly into the earth. My hand abruptly catches his. I raise them both up together, spreading my hand out to match the shape of his. Our skin burns, flame against ice, upon contact.

"Doesn't this bother you?" I ask him slowly. My gaze holds his, searching for the slightest bit of a wince.

Emmett remains at ease. He leans his head in slowly towards me, his lips brushing my neck. "No, it doesn't." His cool breath touches my neck while his lips peel back. In the corner of my eye, I can only see the black top of his hair while his teeth bare and press lightly against my skin. "But does this?"

The second I feel the sharp edge of teeth on my skin, the wolf in me stirs. Heat explodes from deep within my body, sending out waves of shakes across my arms and shoulders. I manage to hold onto my human form, but the need to defend myself is instantly triggered.

I can't hold back.

My arm winds around his neck, locking in place. I don't give him any chance to react. I twist his throat with a sharp crack, feeling him crash down into the ground.  _Hard_. The boom of his landing shoots into the air, echoing throughout the forest. I remain crouched, holding him down while my free hand wraps around his head, my fingers slithering through his hair before setting into an unbreakable hold. Just one quick pop, and it will all be over. . .

Emmett snorts into the dirt. "I'll take this as a no to the cuddling?"

My muscles lock in place at the sound of his voice. Reality washes me in a wave of chills. I slam back into a tree, jerking away from his fallen form. The branches of the tree shiver with the force of the sudden movement. Emmett rises to his feet slowly, shaking his head to get rid of the dirt that has clumped in his hair. The cracks that have split the skin of his neck and the side of his face pull shut in the blink of an eye.

My reaction must have woken him up—it must have made him realize that I am a monster, made to kill, and that there most likely isn't going to be a chance of things ever growing serious between us. Instinct has led me to defend myself against him—it has led me to nearly kill him a second time. I've risked his life; his fate has rested in the control of my own two hands. A very familiar sizzle of rage bursts inside of me. Rage at myself, rage at my instincts, and rage at what I am. I feel pure and utter  _rage_  at the fact that I have just nearly destroyed the one light in my life.

It takes me a few moments to clear my head, ridding myself of all of the nasty thoughts. I take in a deep, clean breath before forcing my eyes to meet Emmett's. Once again, he takes me by surprise. His bright eyes are shining with a thrill, absent of the expected hurt, anger, and disgust everyone else has shown me. He shows no sign of being even the slightest bit upset by my actions.

"That's what I get for messing with a badass werewolf," he jokes.

Joking. No spitting, yelling, staring in disgust, or shutting me out. He is  _joking_  with me after my attack, as if what I have done is nothing. As if he almost understands that my actions are not under my control.

Emmett flashes a big smile at me when I don't respond. "I have to say, I  _am_  impressed, and that's a rare thing to hear from me," he admits with a chuckle. He waves his hand in the direction of the thinning forest in front of us. "But we probably shouldn't get into that. My family is just past these trees, and they might get a little anxious if they hear us tearing the forest up out here. It could send out the wrong idea."

The storm of emotions inside me seems to have stolen my ability to form words. I only nod once to him. Emmett smirks and places his hand on the small of my back, taking me up to the house. His gentle touch concludes that he is not at all bothered by my aggression.

As we near the house, the Cullen's scents hit me first. The raw stench of leech, all pulsing out in thick, sickening waves from the source. I don't allow any reaction of that to show, though, and I continue to allow Emmett to guide me through the shade. His touch doesn't trigger a defense inside of me anymore. In fact, it's the only thing that keeps the trigger still.

Once the house comes into view, my eyes wander over it, taking in each detail suspiciously. The house is fancy, but it isn't the cold, dark place that I have expected. A wrap-around porch circles the first floor of the house, with a few steep stairs that lead up to the front door. The house itself is painted a gentle, fading white, built three stories high and rectangular in shape. Clearly, this residence is an old one, although it is kept neat enough to pass for a modern design. I can sense the presence of the other Cullens behind the dark windows, but the only sound that can be heard is the bubble of a nearby river.

Emmett patiently allows me to observe the house while he slips past me and heads up the porch. He stops with a foot planted above the stairs, one of his knees bent as the other foot rests on the bottom stair. Emmett grins and stretches his arm back, silently offering his cool palm for my own. I stare at the shape of his offered hand, feeling myself starting to slowly get sucked away from the world. In a flash, I am drawn back into a different scene at a much earlier time.

 _Out of nowhere,_ his  _hand whooshes down in front of me, only a blur until it smacks into my right cheek. The force of the blow causes me to collide back into a locker. My skin scrapes against the floor._

 _"You're disgusting," I snarl breathlessly, cupping my cheek where it throbs. The laughter ends abruptly as_ his  _expression morphs into one of pure fury. His dark eyes flash while red blossoms from his cheeks._

_"You're just a little whore that shouldn't be alive. It's obvious Sam only looks after you because he takes pity on you. You're a worthless screw-up who wants nothing more than attention and people to feel bad for you." He pauses to take a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling with the sharp intake. "YOU KNOW I'M RIGHT! I'M ALWAYS RIGHT!"_

His  _voice rings out through the empty halls, loud enough that it's a wonder why nobody comes out to see what's going on. I continue to stare at him, wondering how I have missed this side of him. This furious monster that seems to have come out of nowhere. I try to piece things together, but my thoughts are ended with a sudden burst of pain._ His  _fists zip forward, pounding into my face repeatedly. The pain isn't nearly as bad as the betrayal that has cracked my heart in two._

I blink my eyes as the memory evaporates. The sound of a long forgotten voice echoes in the more murky shadows of my mind. It has only been a second, but it is enough time for Emmett to start to think that I'm hesitating. My eyes sweep over the smooth skin of his palm, following the trail of each defined line. I raise my gaze toward his own, looking deep into the light depths of his eyes.

I stare for only a moment, but it is long enough for me to decide to pocket away my screaming instincts and take his hand.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that I don't have to invite my werewolf inside for her to come in with me," Emmett muses me while he reaches for the doorknob.

His gaze is set on the side of my face, but I keep my eyes on the door, trying to keep my mind on the feel of his fingers. A small reflection of my earlier smile creeps onto my lips. "That's a rather old vampire joke. Classic."

Emmett pushes his bottom lip out in a mock pout. "Classic?"

"Nearly."

"Damn. Well, there goes the chance of you liking my family—I'm the most unique one out of all of us."

"You might as well humor me, then."

"Mmm. . ." Emmett wraps his large hand around the door and pauses. He leans his head around to look into my eyes, as if he somehow knows it is crucial for me to be focused on him when we go in. If I'm not, there will be a much more damaging repeat of my earlier aggression.

"Now  _that_  is something I'm good at," Emmett finally says.

Suddenly, his hand twists the doorknob around, opening up the entrance to the house. Through the small opening, I can make out the shape of a very large room. It can't possibly have always been only one room—the walls must have been knocked out for any room to be this size. A bright airiness seeps into the room from the farthest wall, which is only a stretch of firm glass. The high-beamed ceiling allows enough area for me to breathe, although the combined stench of numerous leeches poison the freshness. Everything is white, from the floors to the ceiling, in many different shades. It seems humorous, almost, to have a house that matches the skin tone of the household members. They probably use it as camouflage.

As Emmett leads me inside, even the white "camouflage" can't hide the presence of the Cullens. They stand huddled in the front of the room, all of them neat and alert, almost as if they have been expecting us. Emmett guides me over to the group, completely relaxed. Despite his ease, my eyes set on the gleaming white teeth that are revealed in the leader's smile. Even the friendliness doesn't hide the nearly invisible layer of venom that coats his teeth. I clench my hand around Emmett's.

"And this," Emmett says to the attentive Cullens, seeming to sense the tension in my stance, "is my lady."

My feet plant against the thick carpet beneath them. The mouth of the leader Cullen moves as he speaks, but I don't take any notice to his words. My gaze bounces from the heart-shaped face of a female Cullen with a far-too-fond expression beside him before moving back to the honey-haired Cullen. His narrowed yellow stare seems to be set on me. I tighten my hold in Emmett's hand in order to control myself, although I stare him down warningly.

"And it is lovely to have you here," the female Cullen finishes. She sets another stomach-churning smile on me, forcing my stare away before she turns her head back to look at the leader.

He nods and glances at Emmett before his warm eyes rest on me. "Welcome. I am Carlisle, or Doctor Cullen," he begins. I start to feel a bad impression until he chuckles and gestures to his side. "This is my wife, Esme, and—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Emmett waves his free hand in the air, cutting Carlisle off. "Not so fast, Pops. I've even prepared myself for this."

Emmett bares his teeth in the hugest grin I've ever seen. He squeezes my hand reassuringly before he lifts our arms up, gesturing to the two smiling, relaxed Cullens in front of us. "This is Carlisle, my adoptive father, and Esme, my adoptive mother. Questions?"

I shake my head, trying to show my amusement, but the only thing I can do is grimace. Emmett only laughs at my expression and pulls me tighter to his body—it's another silent reassurance, but some manner of understanding, nonetheless. He moves our hands to point at the honey-haired leech—Moody, I think it is—who looks like he's about to murder something, and the bright, short Cullen appears to be pasted to his side.

"This would be Jasper. He's more of a war veteran, so he can be kinda tense. And the, uh, shorter one is Alice." Emmett looks between Jasper and Alice before turning his gaze back on me. He arches an eyebrow.

Jasper only nods curtly. His jaw pops out as I turn my attention on him again, and he squints his eyes at me. He parts his lips slightly, but it is clear that he is intent on staying silent.

The small Cullen, Alice, seems to be more welcoming than he is, but only slightly. She mirrors Jasper's nod, although her nose is wrinkled. Clearly something about me is making her unhappy. Or maybe it's just my presence that's setting them all off.

"It is very nice to meet you, Jordan. We appreciate this," Esme interjects, breaking the stiff tension. Her gaze flickers over to Jasper and Alice uneasily.

I force a convincing smile, nodding to the gathered group of them. I don't pay much attention to any of the Cullens—at this point, I'm trying to not choke on the fumes of their sickening scents. I make my eyes to scan across the room with fake interest. At least, the interest is fake until my gaze meets the brown eyes of a girl that I haven't noticed.

Heat stacks up inside me. It builds, block after block, moving up from the center of my torso, fanning out into each of my veins while heating up my bloodstream. My pupils dilate and my body comes alive. I can feel my fingers slowly curling into my palm as my eyes take in the sight of her.

 _She_  is there, in the back of the room, seated on a small sofa. The cluster of the Cullens' bodies have hidden her. The plain features of her pale face, accompanied with her uneven lips and wave of brown hair is unmistakable. I have only seen her once, in the pack's drifting thoughts, but I am certain it is  _her_. She is crammed up next to the bronze-haired Cullen, her brown eyes settled on me. She takes in the sight of me and a shy smile creeps onto her lips.

"Oh, yeah, and that is Edward. With him is the human I told you about," Emmett adds. He slips his hand free of mine, placing both of his hands on my arms. The sweet scent of his breath rids the disgust that has come from the scent of the Cullens, making more room for the fire that is spreading internally.

"Hi . . . I'm Bella," she says, her cheeks darkened with embarrassment. Her eyes trail across the room, seeming to be looking at everything but me.

I don't respond. My attention is suddenly undivided—the world around me blurs, all of the sharpened senses and sounds draining away. It is as if I am a hunter again, and the shape of a target has been drawn around Bella's face. Bella's sickening, too sweet, all innocent face.

I focus in on the darkening of Edward's intense stare. His eyes are glaring in my direction, his bronze brows furrowed as he stares. I can almost feel him picking through my mind, but even that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that finally, I have my chance to knock some sense into this little bitch.

The Cullens are all silent. Emmett's hands still hover over my arms, brushing across the smooth surface. I find myself leaning back into his chest while I search for the willpower to not pound her face in.

It's going to take a ton of willpower.

Bella's gaze darts around before she looks at me, seeming to be nervous as she picks up on the mood of the Cullens. A small curve of a wary smile lifts on her lips. "So, you know Jake?"

My dark stare remains locked on her. I don't even hesitate as I answer. Words fly out of my mouth, all of them aimed directly at her.

"Yes, I do know him," I respond in a sharp, curt tone. "Oh, yeah, I know that poor, hopeless guy that you're stepping all over. Here's a tip—get off his ass, and stay the hell away from La Push. We've all had enough of your little dramatic problems. As if you're actually worth our time." My eyes narrow further. "There are many other humans out there needing protection, who have better intentions in life than to stumble around, forcing the world to revolve around them. Unlike those who seem to live for chaos and love to step on those who are actually doing good for them."

Silence envelops the room. Five stares rest on me, the weight of them seeming to be meant to pin me down and erase my words. I hold my ground steadily, feeling my fingers flex. I can only imagine wrapping them around Bella's head right now, crushing the sorry ass skull of hers right in. But I don't need to use my hands in this attack. No, my words are my weapon—crude, sharp, raw facts.

They stare at me like I've sent their last friend to hell, but I don't give a damn. Someone has to lay the facts out if this 'Bella Revolution' is to ever end.

A low growl tears from Edward's chest. He leans protectively over Bella, trying to shield her from my motionless advance. His eyes puncture into my own, prying into the flames of my thoughts. "Careful, love. Wolves are dangerous," he whispers to Bella, refusing to directly acknowledge my presence.

Bella looks between Edward and me before she lets out a huff. She shakes her head, her eyes tightened. "Jake? I-I wouldn't do that to Jake. W-Why . . . what are you even saying?"

Bella's voice grinds into me, tearing through to the wolf inside of me. I feel like I might just erupt as I hear the innocent, timid tone of her voice as she stumbles over her words. It would give anyone else the impression that she is a harmless, shy girl just looking to be accepted, or at least looked over without fuss. The desire to bash her head in is nearly unbearable, but the feel of Emmett's hands holds me in place. His palms have closed around my arms and his firm body holds its place behind me.

I snort at her words, my jaw working. "Like  _hell_  you wouldn't. Like hell you don't expect every male creature in the state to drop down and die for you. Who the hell do you think you are, huh? What do you have to say for yourself? What makes you so  _perfectly innocent_  and unbearably special?"

Bella's appalled expression lets loose another round of sparks inside me. She stares at me as if I have just broken her neck. Her expression is horrified—it's comparable to an expression one might wear if they were told that their best friend has died.

Jacob is better off dead than having to be alive and put up with her issues.

Bella's teeth lock. By the amount of hurt and glower in her expression, I realize my thoughts have burst straight past my lips. She stares at me with a blaze in her pretty little brown eyes, as if she is willing my head to be cut off right then and there. I am amused by this, knowing she won't last a second if she makes the slightest move. I shift my weight forward eagerly, zeroing in on my target.

I  _will_  kill her. I will end her—and all of the problems in this whole damn state—in just a moment. My hot breath puffs through my clenched teeth; my breath is a steam that represents the fire of the predator. I am so close to finally bringing peace back to our quiet reservation. Nothing is going to stop me.

Except for the big, muscled guy behind me, of course.

Emmett's hands follow the tense line of my arms, heading up to my shoulders. His large hands cup the shape of each round curve before they clamp down securely. The chill of his touch is injected from the tips of his fingers. Ice bites its way through my skin, tearing through until it hits my veins. Instantly, it grips and suffocates the heat until it is extinguished. The fire fades off into a muted roar.

At this point, the Cullens have had enough. A wave of calm radiates out through each of us. I snarl under my breath at the sensation, my eyes shooting in Jasper's direction. He misses the gesture, though, because his intense stare is glued to Edward.

A small smirk rises on my lips at the sight of the mind reading Cullen. Edward's shoulders tremble, his expression murderous. He glowers openly at me for a long moment, choosing not to speak, which is a smart move on his part. His tousled bronze hair catches the light as he smoothly stands to his feet. He keeps his head turned in my direction, not breaking his stare. At least these leeches have enough sense to never turn their backs on me.

Edward's coal black eyes settle on Bella. He wraps an arm around her waist and lifts her up before he steers her out the back door. He still doesn't say a word. Bella's muffled stutters are hushed by Edward's soothing words. I stare steadily, watching them until the last trace of the two of them has vanished.

The silence remains, although an uneasy buzz still hums over the surface. Carlisle is the one who breaks the silence. He steps forward, standing in front of Emmett and me. His golden gaze is troubled.

"Emmett, son," he says in a careful, selective tone. "May I please speak with you in the kitchen?"

"Perhaps that is not the best idea, dear," Esme says thoughtfully while placing her hand over Carlisle's own. She turns her gaze on me, and she smiles, although the hurt is clear beneath it. "I am very sorry that you and Bella don't seem to be getting along. We should have made sure you were comfortable with everything before your visit."

"Or perhaps you should not have invited the wolf here at all," Jasper notes lowly. His eyes drop onto the pixie-sized leech who clings to his side.

"Oh, hush, Jazz," she chides gently. "She should come around."

Carlisle shakes his head in disapproval. He sighs before he meets Emmett's gaze evenly, his golden eyes hardened. "I wish to speak with you alone, Emmett."

"That's not necessary," Emmett mutters. His tone is stern and full of warning—I have never heard anything like it. My gaze flickers back, meeting the black, glowing burn of Emmett's eyes. He doesn't return the look.

"So that's it?" he demands, not giving anyone else a chance to speak. As if anybody would—the sudden gnarled frustration in his tone sends out heavy waves of impulsive anger. "One problem with her and you're going to rush us out?"

"Emmett, please—"

The gentle tone of Esme's voice instantly pulls the defensive trigger inside of me. "What is it then?" I tense back against Emmett, willing him to hold me in as the fire starts to grow. My dark blue gaze reflects in each golden pair of narrowed jewels. "Never heard a bitch work magic?"

A cloud of tension hangs over each of our heads. Emmett holds me against him, bracing me back while unknowingly keeping me in my human skin. The darting glances of the yellow eyes along with the sting of their scents is slowly taking over my mind once more, bringing out my inner predator. The crackle of tension is expanding. I tense further, grinding my teeth together while feeling Emmett's anger feed off my own. The wolf inside of me is howling, begging me to let it loose and do what I am meant to do.

Of course, I don't get the chance.

A sharp hiss erupts from the mouth of the honey-haired Cullen. He is standing perfectly erect, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes have crinkled, almost as if he is struggling against his instincts, too. The hard black gems of his eyes trigger a connection in my mind, matching his expression with a memory of Emmett's words.

_Jasper? Nah, he has a power, one of empathy. He was feeding off your fire and what you were feeling. He's not so bad. Usually._

"Emmett," he utters in a hushed tone. His mouth barely moves as he forces out the word. He hasn't said much, but now it is very clear why he has been refraining from speaking. The hostility laced within his words is clear and unhidden. "Get that  _thing_  out of here."

Neither of us wastes another moment. Emmett's hands drop, catching one of mine with his own. My fingers weave into the spaces of his and clench tight. Emmett plows straight through the room, heading toward the door—he seems to have sensed the shadow of his anger as it soaked into me.

The door bashes against the side of the wall. I clear the porch in two strides, not allowing any space to weasel its way between Emmett and me. We both charge into the forest, leaving the Cullens behind. We don't stop until the heavy scent of the house has ebbed away and we are circled by the forest.

Almost instantly, Emmett's arms surround my waist. I allow him to pull me tight against him, not having any problem with it. Emmett growls softly as he feels my body press against his. I lock my gaze into the black circles of his eyes, holding his gaze for a moment.

This time, I can't help myself. My hands knot into his hair and I bring his head down to mine, causing our lips to crash together. His hands wrap around my hips, holding me in place while making an escape impossible. The fire of our kiss builds slowly until it seems to burn away at my mouth. A tremble passes through my body before echoing in his own.

A pull from the pit of my stomach draws me into him. I melt into his arms, giving into the desire that now gnaws and thrashes from deep inside of me. I kiss him without any hesitation—our lips move in a rough pattern, locked together as one. My hands tug at his hair while my emotions swirl and steam. I can't get enough of him.

We kiss for what could have been seconds or maybe even hours, just until the fire has dulled into a smolder. Emmett leans away slowly, being the one to break the kiss. A growl slips through my lips as he pulls back. He chuckles but doesn't say a word. Instead, he wraps his arm around my torso and pulls me down next to him. He settles back against a tree, pulling me back to lie flat against his chest.

Another smile breaks across my lips. My head finds the crook of his neck and settles in place. Curious eyes trace the shape of his collarbone, trailing across his broad chest and down the flat plains of his muscled abdomen. A strong desire to reach out and run my hands across each of those muscles swells inside of me, but I manage to keep my hands to myself. For now.

Instead of torturing myself with longing, I force my gaze to drift up toward Emmett's face. A thin black strand of my hair jiggles in the breeze, stubbornly refusing to be blown back. Even though it is rather irritating, I don't bother to swipe it away. In fact, I can't move if I wanted to—my stare has set and locked me down as I take in Emmett's expression.

His eyelids have fallen shut, enclosing the warm golden pools beneath. His brow is relaxed, settled down straight. There isn't a single crease in his forehead or beneath his eyes—his skin is completely smooth, like a light layer of freshly fallen snow that contrasts against his dark hair. I briefly wonder why I haven't even fully realized how handsome he is. He is so peaceful. The winds and rain could beat at his body forever, and even then he probably wouldn't be bothered. His features radiate out from beneath a mask of pure peace. All except for his lips, which are pressed together as if he is savoring the sensations of our kiss inside of him, not letting a single second of it slip away.

He holds peace, something that I have lost long ago. He is everything that I am not. He is almost a relief, a shadow of what I have lost. I can't help but admire him.

I am falling. Suddenly, I can feel the feather-light squeeze in the core of me; I can feel the height that I have pulled myself to as I plummet through the air. My mind is scattered, my thoughts bouncing off one another. They are all trying to sort out right from wrong, trick from truth, monster from angel. Emmett isn't questionable—his thoughts, actions, and feelings are displayed in his face, clear enough for the world to see. But what I need to know is as I fall, will he catch me? Or will I hit the ground and shatter into a million tiny pieces once more, only this time, to never collect myself and be damned to the monster inside of me?

My stomach rolls with the truth. There is no denying it. There is no turning back. The pull is much more than an attraction. He will be mine, and I will be his. Vampire and shape shifter, matched by fate in some twisted, sick, unnatural meaning. But I feel nothing for a vampire. No, suckers are only suckers, and nothing more. It's Emmett; it's him and the human in him that is drawing me in.

Emmett has to realize what he's dealing with. He could try to touch me again and I could end up tearing him apart. He could try to kiss me and his venom would poison me. I am designed to kill him. But is it my purpose, my duty, to allow him to be the one to help fight the monster inside and find Jordan Uley somewhere in here?

As my thoughts wander, I am struck with a strange pang. It's not painful; it's more of a rush of emotion that smacks me right in the heart. Images of the dark expressions of each Cullen scroll through my mind. All except for Emmett's, who stands behind me, his own emotions a mystery.

"Emmett," I breathe. His name slides off my tongue and through my lips without me even thinking about it. I can't think at all, really—my mind is buzzing with the idea of me having truly upset someone. For once, I can't bear the thought of hurting someone. I can't bear the thought of hurting him.

Emmett seems to have caught the tone of my thoughts in that odd, understanding way of his. He laughs once, disrupting the comfortable silence. I lean my head back, only to see him grinning as he stares down at me. All of his sudden defensive anger has vanished, leaving him full of the same optimistic, upbeat mood that has always found a way to lighten the atmosphere. He leans down as if to kiss me, but instead, he lowers his lips to my ear. I hold onto the low, comforting sound of his voice as he chases off each doubtful thought with only five words.

"It could have been worse."

It's those five words that first start to teach me how to let go and move on.


	34. Choices

_"All the emptiness inside you_  
 _Is hard enough to fill_  
 _Without a sense of purpose_  
 _We're setting up to fail."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Four

Choices

* * *

Everything else passes in a blur. My memory is foggy, empty of anything other than the feel of Emmett's muscled chest as my head rests against it. It seems as if that lone memory has overpowered memories of my return home to the point where I don't remember going home at all. I exhale through my nose, releasing a warm breath as I begin to wake up. A bleak, grey light is visible through the crack of my sleep-heavy lids. I have slept through morning patrol, again. Sam's going to fry me for breakfast if I keep this up. I shift my weight, feeling the edge of the bed disappear. I frown, forcing one eye completely open, only to meet two circles of gold.

Emmett's eyes are a few inches above my own. He hovers over me, and by his expression, I can guess he's been like that for a while. A large grin breaks out across his face as both of my eyes open completely. "Good morning."

I shoot up into a sitting position. My head knocks against Emmett's, crashing right into his bent forehead. I tense in place and clench my hands into the couch, trying to ignore the throbbing in my temple. My gaze darts around the Cullen house, searching through the room for any sign of another Cullen. My senses tell me that the house is empty of any vampires, with the exception of the giant one beside me. I still don't ease up, though, and I send my narrowed eyes across the house one more time. The movement of Emmett's fingers, rubbing slowly over his forehead, distracts my gaze.

He chuckles lowly. "You have nothing to worry about. We're completely alone. And I was even a gentleman—I didn't take advantage of the situation and let things go to the bedroom. Yet."

"And you're saying that I spent the whole night  _here,_  on the couch _?"_  I ask him slowly.

"Yeah, sure did," he confirms proudly, seeming oblivious to the indirect growl in my tone.

"Shit," I mutter. In one movement, I shift off the couch, careful not to knock him off. My feet move quickly across the floor as I head straight for the door, not slowing even though they are echoed by another pair of footsteps.

Emmett follows right behind me, tossing a baseball from palm to palm. He is completely at ease, his body relaxed. "Aw, come on, you can stay a little longer. I'll . . . behave. I'll even show you to my bed if you hate couches that much."

My feet plant on the floor. I turn back to look at him, studying the innocent amusement in his gaze. His bright eyes, smooth face, and black curls make him nearly irresistible. The deep, low tone of his voice doesn't help much. I fight against the urge to actually keep myself right here, with him, knowing that doing so will only cause more trouble than it's worth.

"And thanks for that, or whatever the hell I'm supposed to say to the vampire who let me sleep in his house all night. The pack is probably going nuts right now."

He grins. "Let them. This isn't something for them to worry over, is it?"

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. The closeness of his face is starting to make my heart flutter, but I won't cave in. "It's gonna be really hard to behave when the pack comes out here to shred you."

"If it's action, I'm your guy," he says while cracking his knuckles for emphasis.

I release another sharp breath before turning back toward the door. A smile works its way onto my lips, and I let it stay there, unable to push it away. "You'll get your action with that family of yours when they catch my scent. But until then, I gotta make sure the pack isn't planning on doing something stupid."

This time, when I turn, a cold hand catches my wrist. Emmett's fingers lock around my hand, pulling me close to him. I look back and open my mouth to speak, to ask what the hell he thinks he's doing, but I don't get the chance.

His cool lips find mine while his hands close around my waist. The baseball in his hand rolls down my thigh and drops to the floor, forgotten. There is something different in this kiss, something new in the way his lips move. I respond to him without the slightest bit of hesitation, allowing my tense body to gradually relax in his hold.

As my shoulders drop back into place, Emmett laughs once against my lips. His mouth pulls back, but then continues to follow the shape of my jaw before pausing at my ear.

"Just promise me you'll come back," he whispers.

The fresh sting of his scent in my nostrils is intoxicating. I find myself pulling in each breath of him, my head swimming with the effect it has. My hands are tingling with a strong desire to touch the source of the scent, to feel his body beneath them, but they remain locked in place. I take a few minutes to form just one word.

"Promise."

"Very good." Emmett flashes a smug grin, but it is gone a moment later. He sighs heavily before sulking over to the door and pulling it open. He turns his head to look at me expectantly. I slip by him, close enough that my body brushes against his. It's a risky action, but I just can't help myself. For a moment, I swear his body tenses against my own, but I continue down the porch without paying any mind to it. Once my feet hit the grass, I glance back at him one last time.

"Feel free to bring me back some action," he says. His right eye winks before the door slides shut behind him.

I smile to myself as I duck beneath the thick shade of the trees. The second the darkness closes around me, the smile drops—I have to focus now. I strip my clothes off my body before I drag the heat of the wolf out from my core. I fall out of my human skin in the blink of an eye. My paws brush against the ground before they set into the rhythm of an easy lope. There is only a single second of the peaceful murmur of the natural forest sounds before the pack's thoughts bombard my mind.

_Jordan!_

_There's the leech lover!_

_She's really done it now!_

_That was so awesome! She's a legend!_

_Can't we all just forget about this and go back on patrol? And we're missing lunch. I'm starving!_

_Say that one more time and you'll be missing a lot more than just lunch._

_Oh, take it easy, Leah._

_Shut up, damn it. Here she comes!_

Each mind is jittery with excitement. Images of a pacing circle of wolves flash into my mind. Glimpses of bare, shining teeth and raised hackles mix their way into the images. Anger swells in the minds of some, while others are filled with an open worry.

Stale scents of wolves fill my nostrils. I snort at the smell of them, my paws passing over them right before I hit the treaty line. The pack has been in Cullen land recently. They have been near-crossing, and close to coming to the Cullen land. I growl once at the thought.

Another growl answers my own. It's louder, though, something that means to override my own. A shimmer rings in the air, signaling that another has joined us. The pack mind hushes as they hear the voice of the new mind, all of them seeming to sense that they shouldn't speak just now.

His thoughts slam into those of the pack, forcing everything else out into silence. The volume of them is cranked on high, blocking out everything else. He injects a fire into the mind, directing everything into my mind in a single blast. I push my legs faster, racing toward the clearing. The world disappears from around me as my mind is filled with the thoughts of another.

_The green vegetation sweeps over a russet muzzle, ticking the tips of the rough, spinal fur. Anxious thoughts fill the wolf's head as he creeps forward, crouched low to the ground. Why hasn't she answered his call? She has told him she will be over at five, but she hasn't showed up. Has the leech got to her again, or has she really given up on him? Does she think that he will stop fighting for her even if she starts to try to pull away from him?_

_A single light shines from the house, bringing color to the dark of the night. The wolf silently circles the flood of light, making sure to stay in the silence. He raises his muzzle toward the window and pauses, his deep-set eyes skimming over the house. He lets out a low mutter, the sound rumbling from deep within his throat. The wolf pauses as he listens._

_There is only silence for a moment. The wolf huffs, blowing out a hot breath from his muzzle. He pauses again, waiting, until the window is thrown up. He pulls his lips back as a wolfish grin spreads over his expression. But, the grin is only on his face briefly—a moment later, his eyes catch the glimmer of tears that shine on the face of the brown-eyed girl._

_The wolf is abruptly gone. He now occupies the form of a man_ — _he has shifted from wolf to Jacob. His shaking hands snatch up the cutoffs tied around the man's ankle, tugging them up to his hips. Jacob ducks into the light, his thick brows furrowed over his eyes. "Bella?"_

_"What do you want, Jacob?"_

_Jacob frowns at the cold, sharp edge in Bella's voice. He shoves his hands in his pockets and glances around before smiling brightly. "Reporting for duty."_

_"You have better things to protect than me. You're wasting your time," she snaps._

_"What the hell are you talking about?" Jacob's muscles tighten at her words. He can feel the rain starting to patter down on his half-naked form, and he is uneasy about being so exposed in the dark without his wolf senses, but he can't back away now. Something is wrong with her, his girl. He can sense it._

_Bella takes in a long breath through her nose. She slides a hand through her hair, biting her lip as she leans farther away from the window. "You're tired. You . . . you need to sleep."_

_Jacob's eyes narrow, his arms folding across his chest. "You're a really awful liar, you know that?"_

_She sighs. "Yes, I've heard."_

_"Oh." Jacob's lips twitch, his throat tightening as he holds back a growl. He shifts his weight, moving back into the shadows. "So that's it? You're just going to let him take your life now? What happened to graduating high school?"_

_"No, Jake, it's not him_ — _"_

_"It's not him, it's you, right?" Jacob's body is slowly starting to be infected with heat_ — _the shakes that change his form tremble in his limbs. A hot tear stabs the corner of his eye. He shakes his head, pulling his hands loose to rake them through his hair. The leech must have gotten to her, moving in early, ending all chances for himself._

_"Wait!"_

_Jacob casts a darkened glance up at Bella. His whole body is shaking now, and he needs to leave_ — _he has to get out of here. He angles his shoulder to move away, but Bella's shout paralyzes him. His feet are rooted to the ground. He has no choice but to silently stare up at her, unmoving._

_"Don't go!" Bella makes some sort of frustrated, shuddering sigh, running her hand through her thick hair. "It's just…one of your friends said something."_

_Jacob pauses. He takes a minute to mull over her words. "What?"_

_Bella breathes out through her nose, trying to calm herself out. "I don't know why. She was over at the Cullens. We were supposed to meet her; she was Emmett's new . . . girlfriend. Then she told me I was just causing you and the pack trouble, and that you need me to go away."_

_Jacob listens intently as Bella frantically gushes out the truth. His hands clench and his jaw follows. He feels his nostrils flare while they release a sharp breath. Jordan is trying to keep Bella away from him? Jordan has been hurting Bella? He says nothing, but he rips his feet free of the invisible hold and charges off into the forest._

_"Jacob!" Bella shouts out. She leans out the window, staring into the forest. Jacob's gaze briefly meets hers, and then he is gone._

_Her voice echoes above the treetops before it fades into the memory._

I burst through the tangle of branches, entering a wide clearing. I slow my pace, my gaze whipping across each pacing form, ignoring the curious raise of each large head. The wolves all are staring at me, their human eyes looking over my body for any sign of a bite mark, but I don't take any notice. He's coming, and he's pissed. I snap my teeth, eager to meet his rage with my own.

Moments later, Jacob comes flying out of the brush on the other side. Thoughts of surprise ring through the pack mind, followed by wolves leaning back, moving away from the charging wolf. My gaze meets his infuriated dark eyes expectantly. He flashes his teeth and pushes off the ground, giving his lunge all he has.

I am ready for his attack. I absorb the force of his weight in my braced crouch. The rough coat of his fur snags against mine, and his snarling, snapping jaws reach for my face, my ear, my throat—anything he can get. Heat radiates off his form, and the wild sense of fury sets the air on fire. I am powered by the blaze, though. I heave my weight to the side in one sudden, violent movement. The large form above me crashes down into a tree with an enraged howl.

My muzzle tenses, pulling back over my teeth. I stand tall before Jacob, leaning my weight back in a defensive pose—I'm ready to strike at any moment. The mental silence of the pack behind me gives us the spotlight, and I can feel the control slipping; I can feel the monster breaking free inside of me.  _A little pissy today, Black?_

Jacob slams down into the ground, pushing back up onto his paws a heartbeat later. He shakes his head, clearing the slivers of wood from his fur. His dark eyes connect with mine again and he advances forward, leaving the split tree behind him. Jacob's head lowers warningly as he stares at me, leaning forward as he moves closer with each roll of his muscled shoulders.

_HOW_ COULD _YOU?_

My body leans to the side, away from his advance. My paws move over the ground, my body unexposed as I circle around the challenging wolf. He stands nearly half a head taller than me, but I sense no threat. I won't ever back down.

_How could I not?_  I snap.  _Damn bitch had it coming._

_She had a_  leech _in her bedroom! She has another_  leech  _chasing after her! She has_ enough _going on, she doesn't need this!_  Jacob snarls.

_It's that she has so many problems with leeches, yet she is hell-bent on becoming one. She doesn't need you either, Jacob_. I push another snarl through my teeth, echoing the sound of his own. _She doesn't need anything more than a reality check. Consider it a favor._

_Maybe we should all just forget about this and go home_ , Seth thinks. His wide gaze darts between Jacob and me. No wolf moves, although a few throats rumble in irritation at Seth's suggestion.

Our circling pulls closer together. The crackle of Jacob's anger is fueling me for what is bound to come. I never move my challenging stare, instinctively trained to never falter. Jacob's head snaps over his shoulder as he passes by again, his paws digging into the loam beneath us with every step.

_Bella needs me! Bella needs US! Bella doesn't know what she's thinking, she . . . she just needs our protection before she makes the wrong choice!_

_Should her choice really have such a big effect on us? Should our pack really be so intent on what she does, while we have a whole tribe to defend from all of these leeches? Should we really be so concerned about a human who is ready to break the one thing that holds peace between us and the Cullens?_ My ears press flat at the thought _. The funny thing is, the more I hear about her, the more I know she's nothing but shit and bad news._

Jacob is the first to crack. He throws his weight up before slamming it down against the ground. He curls his lip back and throws his head forward in a stand-still lunge.  _She did NOTHING wrong!_

I snort, ignoring the uneasy shuffle of slowly retreating wolves around us. My stare stays steady on the dark, glittering glare of Jacob's eyes. _I'll tell you what. Once you imprint on that pathetic little human, I'll leave the damsel alone and let you be her piss-on. Until then, consider yourself having your own duties done for you, free of charge. You'll wake up soon, and then you'll have the little bit of dirty work done for you._  I flash my teeth in a mocking, wolf-like grin.

Jacob can't take it any longer. His temper explodes, sweeping out into the pack mind. He rushes toward me head-on, snarling and spitting as he charges. The move is too predictable, and it leaves so many opportunities. It's a stupid one, and a rash move that can end fatally. But Jacob is far past the point of speaking.

Instinct starts to overtake me. I ram against Jacob's body, lifting our bodies up in the air. Jacob swipes his paws at me, throwing his weight forward as much as he can with the slight bit of balance his hind paws allow. I bring my head down as he lunges, allowing instinct to take over. My jaws spread while my muzzle meets his throat. The taste of salt stings my tongue while my teeth slice through his throat.

Shakes loosen my muscles, the predator inside of me consuming the other thoughts in my mind. The wind rushes by as gravity takes us down, but I don't notice. My teeth continue to cut through, the world around me completely shut off. I will continue to tear through him now that I have taken hold.

Suddenly, a roar breaks through the voice of my instincts. Jacob's body is yanked out from beneath me. My paws thud to the ground, and my vision is blocked out in a wall of a brown coat. I inhale sharply, feeling the rush of the moment shoot back into me.

_Jacob, are you hurt?_

_What were you doing?_

_Told you Uley was something else._

_What happened here?_

Sam's large, black body circles around the pack, approaching the gathered wolves. He has appeared from nowhere, seeming to have stepped straight through the brush. His eyes graze over the pack, and then down to Jared, who stands firmly between Jacob and my shaking bodies.

_I dunno, Sam, but I'd bet there was a fight._  Jared glances down at the splatter of blood on the wet grass.

Sam's gaze pierces into Jacob's, filled with silent warning. Jacob lowers his head and snarls at him, but returns his stare. He pauses for a moment, listening to his thoughts, before he turns on me. Sam snaps as he saunters forward. His ears press flat as he addresses me.  _Jordan, where have you been?_

I narrow my eyes at his demanding tone. _Does it matter? If you send me out the door every morning without saying a single word, why should you give a damn about where I go?_

Leah spits a growl out, shaking her head. Impatience is buzzing in her mind as she holds her place beside Seth, at the very back of the gathered circle of wolves.  _Do you even have to ask? She's has an_ imprint _now, of course she can't_ help _herself._

Brady and Collin whine from the back of the pack, wary of the tense emotions. They shuffle closer to Seth, drawn in by his similar emotions. A few wolves grumble at them, but otherwise, they don't move.

Sam slams his paw down, insisting on being answered. His dark gaze holds mine, his stiff shoulders set.  _You were with him?_

_It's legal._  I reveal my teeth.

Snarls pass through the pack. My gaze flickers in the direction of the loudest one, only to meet the gaze of the largest grey wolf. His pace remains frozen in place, although his attention is all on the tense wolves. His eyes seem to be somewhat amused, but the raised fur on his neck says otherwise.

_She went over there and bitched at Bella, Sam,_  Nicole chimed in. She shifted her weight and leaned her head over to look at Sam, taking a wary step forward.  _She was unnecessarily rude and it upset Jake._

The pack mind grows hushed again, each wolf struggling to contain their own opinion. Jacob's gaze shoots in Nicole's direction, but she purposely keeps her back to him. I feel a strong need to sink my teeth into the both of them, but the healing scar on Jacob's neck and the order of Sam's presence hold me back.

Sam growls once more and raises himself to stand again. He meets the gaze of each wolf in the back. Jared shifts behind him, watching. I scrape a paw through the mud, struggling to hold myself back once more.

_This might very well be a diversion, a distraction. Jared, sort out patrols. Jacob, go home and get some rest. And Jordan_. Sam pauses as he contemplates.  _Go home._

The pack's thoughts start to rise up again. Jared sorts out the wolves with directions and duties, sending them all off toward different areas. The wolves make a wide arch around me before they jog into the brush, refusing to look at me. Jacob is the only one who pays me any mind—he growls lowly at me before pushing through the brush. One by one, each wolf files out. Even the large grey one disappears without a single look.

It's as if I don't exist.

Sam is expecting me to return home. As if I will. I remain in the muddy, empty clearing, slowly gathering myself. Yet again, I have committed another crime: the crime of spending a night with him.

Bullshit! All of his punishments are weightless on me now; as weightless as the air that shimmers to fit the form of my human body. I have no clothes, and the rain seeps into my hair, running down my neck and breasts, but I don't even mind. I am in motion once more, moving through the forest silently, unnoticed.

The forest floor pierces my feet, but I barely notice, my naked feet accustom to the rough landscape. The vegetation tugs at my bare skin, and I swear I can hear it snarling at me, challenging me to break. I press forward, each step the drag of a heavy, invisible chain that is yanking me back to my family. The pull of my loyalty, that's what it is. I am going against everything, pushing behind everything, all for him.

The weight of my choice pulses in my head. It is as if it is beating against the edges of my skull, threatening to break through and let loose the contents of my darkened mind in one moment. I flash my teeth and let out a strangled sound—a sound that is not human, not animal, but somewhere in between.

My foot stretches out in front of me again, but the invisible chain yanks me back. I crash down to my hands and knees, my fingers sinking into the wet leaves and muck. My damp hair sways on other side of my face, blocking my view. The air around me is too tight, too heavy, and has too much moisture. I am constricted, feeling myself choke on my own breath. Waves of heat beat down on my exposed back, melting through my skin, burrowing in deep. The wolf in me thrashes, sending shakes throughout my frame. I am pulling apart, falling into pieces, breaking open after years of sealing off everything inside me.

A voice is whispering in my ear. The words are feather-light, nothing more than a hum on the breeze.  _No. No, don't do this. Get up._

I raise my head, my lip pulling back in a frozen snarl. Breath pushes through the spaces of my teeth, coming in short pants. The shakes have spread to my shoulders, steadily climbing down into my wrists. My hands tremble, sliding deeper into the mud.

Chains wind around my ankles. They inch back slowly, dragging me back a little more, taking me farther out of my own body. I whip one arm forward, clamping my fingers down on a slick tree root.

_No. This is_ my _choice._

The chains hiss, snapping around my waist. My whole torso shakes as they pull, the heat reflecting off my body, blazing like an open fire. Even the weight of my choice is leaning down over my head, hovering, threatening to crush me and break open sealed scars.

_No. This is my fate, my choice._

Rain dribbles down my hand, sliding down my arm. I push off my arm, grinding my teeth together. I'm done with this shit. I'm ready to start over—I'm ready to find myself and let everything else behind me.

_This isn't wrong._

Selfish. They will think I'm selfish. I am selfish to try to fix myself. It is very, very selfish to heal one's self after they have been cruel, crooked, and broken for so long. They'll never fully realize how stupid it is to contain me, holding me down and pressuring me until the monster inside of me breaks loose. My mental endurance is a ticking time bomb.

_This is my chance, my fate, and my choice._

Emmett is something new, something strange and unnatural. He is a vibe of life. Emmett is a chance at healing myself—he is something that is within reach, something real and alive that I can catch and hold onto. Something that can bring me—the real me, the person trapped deep within the mess of myself—back alive again. He's a second chance.

He is a second chance. He is my own personal medicine, and he might have a cure. I have to find myself, and I have to be put back together. I have to be a some _one_  and not a some _thing_.

I have to take the chance, if not for myself, then for the sake of every sane, living soul around; unless any of them thoroughly enjoy mass destruction of the world around them. Unless they truly to believe the tie of fate has deemed me an unworthy mess.

There is no pausing now, and there is no struggle. I force myself to my feet, breaking free of the invisible chains. The wind catches the screaming, protesting chains that have bound me down and sucks them away; sucks them into nothingness.

I run at a steady pace, with purpose and a renewed fire. To the first thing that might just understand. To the one thing I can hope for.

To the last thing that can possibly keep me together now.

 


	35. Something About You

_"I'm not out for us to fly or be set free_  
 _So what, so what?_  
 _I'd show you, you'd show me, so much, so much."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Five

Something About You

* * *

Tires screech against the rain-slick road, crying out as they're forced to come to an abrupt halt. The muffled scream of the driver is audible, even through the tinted glass of the windshield. The car is a large obstacle in the road before me, but it is no threat. Nearly nothing can harm me now. I hold no fear as I shoot out onto the road, right in front of the moving vehicle.

My eyes make out every little detail of the car, from its sunken tires to its muddy windshield. I even catch a glimpse of the horrified expression of the driver. She's a woman, young, and pale in the face. She can't be anybody from the reservation—she isn't anybody I need to worry about. I'm moving at an impossible speed, one long leg pushing me off the ground and onto the front of the battered car. My opposite leg follows through, reaching for the roof of the car before pushing off. Just a moment after I have landed, I am gone again, disappearing into the dense green brush of the forest.

There aren't many wolves who choose to run like this. Human, exposed, and out in the open for any curious eye to see. I can't stop now, though. If I am to phase, the pack will tie me down, dragging me back. I have been free, and I will be free, bound to earth by nothing.

Except for the lone thing that's keeping me here, in this hell: Emmett.

Cullen lands aren't very far out from the road. I take only minutes to breeze through a mile, and then a minute more to silently cross through the black water of the river. The wall of clouds above my head lock in the light, trapping me in, securing me into the shadows. My presence is invisible.

I move onto the bank in a single stride, planting my feet above the liquid mud. Water runs over every inch of my body, dripping onto the ground. The soft splash of their impact is the only sound in the heavy silence. Even my breathing is gentle. I appear to be at ease while my senses are on high, scanning out over the area around me.

The forest is empty.

Finding no threats, I press forward. Moving into the Cullen lands is like passing through a bubble—the calm atmosphere of the Quileute lands bursts, and another expands out over me, swirling with the sickly sweet stench of leeches and the tension of their uneasy climate. I am a wolf now, my mind in complete focus. I can smell their fear.

A couple paces forward lead me in near distance of the leech den. My body slips behind a tree, unexposed and sheltered by its thick protection. I release a heated breath through my lips. I've come this far, now I only need to follow through. I turn my head around the rounded edge of my barrier, assessing what's in front of me.

The first thing I notice is the night—darkness coats the outside of the Cullen house. I haven't realized how long I've been out. Time is so insignificant now, passing by like breaths of the wind. But, to their kind, night is a time to be wide-awake and on guard. I have to keep my thoughts straight.

My critical gaze scans across the white walls, narrowed with suspicion. All is hushed, with the exception of the lights that burn on the porch. Insects flock around the yellow glows, darting around inside of them. The rain has lightened to a lazy drizzle, quieting. Humidity hangs low over my shoulders, while the buzz and hum of natural forest life tugs at my attention. My stare remains still, because the second he comes into view, my attention is undivided.

A large figure ducks out the back door, stepping onto the porch. The door is shut lightly with a gentle bump of a fist. The figure smiles to himself before he turns. The instant he does, he's bathed in the light, in full view. The grin on his face seems to be even brighter than the glow of the bulbs as his gaze darts in my direction.

"Hey there. How'd it go?" His eyes skim over the dark forest. He frowns, leaning to the side as if to peek around me. "Bring me back any ass to kick?"

I position myself so my weight is balanced, hovering over the tree. The wind brushes over my exposed skin, sending a rush of heat down my spine. I grimace, shaking my head. "Great, but nothing's here."

"Disappointing, but I'll live," he reasons with a grin.

My grimace fades into a slight smile at the joking in his tone. "A little too late to say that."

Emmett snickers in agreement. He starts to say something else, but cuts off with a pause, tilting his head. "Why are you staying out there? If my jokes really were that bad—"

"It's not the jokes," I mutter.

"Oh." He flashes a huge smile, seeming relieved. "You're not getting a little shy, are you?"

"No, not at all. But I am a little naked."

There's another pause. I peek around the tree again, only to see him blinking in confusion. A breath leaves my mouth in a sharp gust. I start to speak, but he answers before the words leave my mouth.

He wolf-whistles, then grins and claps a hand over his eyes. "Oh damn, you're really making this hard on me now. I think I might have to drop this 'gentleman' thing for a little while."

I press myself closer to the tree, feeling the rough bark scrape my skin. "Don't you think it'd be easier if I could have some clothes?"

"Right, didn't think of that." Emmett chuckles to himself before dropping his hand and pulling his shirt over his head.

Let's just say that doesn't make things any easier on my part. My eyes instantly are drawn to the shape of his body, and my heart takes flight. I swallow back my comments.

Emmett balls up the shirt and tosses it toward the tree. The flex of his bicep instantly makes my stomach tighten, but once more I hold myself in. My eyes follow the path of the shirt, watching it stretch out in the breeze, before I snatch it out of the air.

I duck back behind the tree, straightening out his shirt before sliding it over my head. His scent floods my nostrils, blocking out everything else. The fabric of his shirt is smooth against my skin, hanging loose over my shoulders. I let out a big breath and feel a smile spread across my face. For the first time in a very, very long time, I start to relax.

Even though I'm still half-naked, which is probably not a good thing to be when he and his family are just on the other side of the tree.

"Fits nice."

I tense instantly once more, my shoulders locking in place. My gaze finds the source of the voice, landing on Emmett, who is now perched in the tree above me. He drops down as he catches my stare, landing in front of me. His eyes trail across my figure—quickly, just for a second—before he extends a hand, offering me a wrapped package.

"They didn't want to come out here, after last time. You know, just because of the tension. No hard feelings," he says, answering my silent question.

The package is small, folded and made of what looks like a paper bag of some sort. I study it for a moment, but it doesn't look like it can be anything dangerous. I release a breath, gently taking the package from beneath his fingers.

"Good," Emmett says with an approving nod. He glances at me, and then waves his hand behind him. "I'll be . . . away."

He heads off toward the river, leaving me be. My eyes trace his movements, following him all the way to the river. He doesn't look back once.

With a sharp exhale, I tear through the package. The pieces float down to the ground, revealing a pair of long, tight-fitted jeans and a shirt that looks like it's been designed for a fancier event. I shake my head at them, turning the clothing over in my hands, searching for anything that could be used against me. The pockets are flat and the shirt is limp.

I feel sick at the mere thought of putting these clothes on. But, standing out here half-naked isn't the best way to leave a good impression. Muttering to myself, I slide Emmett's shirt back over my head. A flick of my wrist sends it draped over the branch of a tree. I hold out the clothes in front of me. My mind instantly rushes to find another way to get out of this without leaving, and my eyes dart in Emmett's direction for a moment.

Emmett swings one muscled arm, releasing a rock into the river. It skips across the surface before it is swallowed by the current. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention, and his family is nowhere in sight. Having no excuse to stall, I reluctantly slide the clothes over my body, silently gagging at the scent. It's god-awful. Even the Makah jails have a better scent than the leech stench that has soaked into the fibers of the clothing.

A throaty chuckle sounds out over the river, echoing my muted gagging. My gaze flickers in Emmett's direction. His broad back is turned, facing the river, his head bent toward the water. He appears to be very focused on something that has caught his attention. I take only a second to put the pieces together

I snort at the realization and clear my throat. "Lovely view from that river."

The chuckling sound is repeated, only this time, it's louder. He still doesn't move. I secure the button on the jeans and give the shirt a sharp tug, dragging it down over my figure. "Done yet?"

He tilts his head to the side, humming low in his throat before he turns to face me with a large grin. "No worries, you're not the first I've seen. But, I can say I wouldn't mind if that was last exposed woman's body these eyes ever get to see."

I turn to face him, opening my mouth to reply, but I don't get the chance. Emmett sweeps me forward, guiding me back up to the neatly-cut porch stairs of the house. He settles me down in a sitting position before brushing past me.

"You just need to give me a little time, and I'll make sure the feeling is mutual." He laughs once, shaking his head as if he's amusing himself. "Give me a sec here. . ."

With that, he disappears inside the Cullen home before I can even say a word. It's smart of him, leaving me no choice. Smartass is actually sort of attractive on him. On the bright side.

On a sour note, here I sit. In a leeches house. In leech clothes. Waiting for a leech. Fantastic.

()()()

A quarter-sized object whistles through the air, aimed straight at the center of my face. My eyes trace the direction it's headed in, my body angling to block the path of the object. I part my lips just in time, intercepting the sweet little oval in my teeth. A smirk curls on my lips. I turn to face Emmett, jokingly showing off the captured grape before I push it through my teeth and down my throat.

"Ta-da," I finish.

Emmett continues to grin, his teeth gleaming in the dulled light. The same expression has been plastered on his face for the past hour as we play his game, seated on the stairs of the Cullen house. Only our knees are touching now. Our hands and mouths seem to have been temporarily satisfied, although the desire to touch hasn't faded the slightest bit.

"Color," Emmett says. He leans forward, staring intently as he awaits an answer. His lips twitch.

I smile slightly, humming to myself. My gaze travels over him before I decide. "Green. Or maybe blue."

Emmett's shoulders slump, his eyes slanting. "Damn it."

A laugh rises above the deep sound of Emmett's voice. The sound of it is soft, amused, and completely foreign. I cut off suddenly, my head snapping up as I scan the forest with narrowed eyes.

"Who's there?" I demand sharply.

The dark forest sways with the wind. Snaps and cracks of stiff branches echo out over the ground, while the night sky stretches endlessly over the treetops. It's quiet, but nothing unusual. My eyes still stay locked on the shadows, challenging whoever is out there to show themselves.

Nothing moves, other than Emmett's body, which shakes with muffled laughter. His mouth moves, but my focused mind rejects the words. After a long moment for silence, I reluctantly tear my gaze away from the forest, allowing it to rest on Emmett. "What?"

"You laughed, Jordan," Emmett says, his tone thickly amused.

Laugh? I pause for a moment, mulling over the word. It takes me a minute to process what it means—or to remember what laughing even is—before I wrap my head around the idea. "Oh."

Emmett's elbow prods my side gently, his eyes not moving away from mine. "That's just my effect." He wiggles his brow as he speaks.

"I'm sure," I muse, absentmindedly glancing around one final time. "So, green or blue?"

"Yeah, yeah," Emmett grumbles. His lower lip pushes out slightly in a pout, taking another grape from the bag. His expression brightens with amusement as he tosses at me, his eyes resting on my mouth expectantly.

I reach out to pat his knee before ducking my head to catch the grape. I swallow, focusing once more. My expression turns thoughtful for a moment. "Addiction?"

Emmett's dark brows raise away from his bright eyes. His gaze travels over my face. I raise one eyebrow, then the other as I wait, earning a big smile from him. He leans back against the slick railing of the porch, his shoulder brushing mine.

"Grapes?"

"Once, it was alcohol," I answer with a smug smile.

Emmett snaps his fingers in disappointment. "Shit, that was my second guess." He nods and rubs the back of his neck. He appears to be deep in thought, until a wide grin stretches across his face. "Turn on."

"Nakedness?"

"Well," Emmett sighs as he tears the bag to bits, "Better be glad you're not addicted to grapes, 'cause we're out. Game over."

"Oh? Is that so?"

Suddenly interested in the forest, Emmett turns his head away from me. I laugh silently, leaning around his body to look at his expression. "And what does that mean?"

"You . . . won," he admits grudgingly.

I smirk at him. "Hell yeah I did! It's good for you to admit it, even if it crushes your confidence."

Emmett huffs, appearing to be deep in thought. He is silent for a long moment before he looks back at me, grinning again. "New rule—you have to win two rounds, in a row, to win."

"That would be a great idea," I reason. "Except for the fact that we're out of grapes."

"Nope, no grapes." He shakes his head. "Just the pride of winning."

"And the pouting when you lose."

"What was that?" Emmett cups a hand over his ear, leaning closer to me. "Has this pretty lady dared to challenge  _Emmett_ Cullen?"

"I hear men love a challenge," I answer with a brief smile.

"That we do." Emmett laughs loudly, raking a hand through his hair. "You, Miss Jordan Uley, are about to be beaten down."

"We'll just have to see about that, Mr. Emmett Cullen."

"You're on!" Emmett grins eagerly, clapping his hands together. "Alright, here we go. . . Activity?"

My eyes instantly lock on the rounded muscles bulging out from the sleeves of his shirt. "A work out."

Emmett debates for a few seconds, grimacing. "Close enough."

"Secret?" I fire the question off automatically, my fingers flexing with anticipation.

"You. . . killed someone."

Of course, out of all the questions I've asked, that's the one he gets right. I feel my muscles tense, my eyes starting to blank out. I'm being dragged back out of the moment, into the past. The world around me grows fuzzy, slowly disappearing from my grasp. An instinctive growl presses through my lips, my teeth clenching. I curl my fingers into my fists and reel myself back in, nodding my head. It takes a moment for me to remember how to speak.

"Yeah. One of many."

I don't get a response. It's unusual, because everything has always been so instant and upbeat this whole time, fueled by Emmett's good attitude. But this time, instead of responding, his eyes drop down to my fists.

"You have a lot of secrets, don't you?"

For a moment, my body seizes up again, threatening to lock down. Nobody has ever been so open about things with me. It's always been hinting, or prodding and pressing me. My instinct is to shut off and attack, ending what might be a threat. But I can't do that with Emmett—I can't hurt him.

My hand slides through my hair. I clear my throat, gathering myself before I answer. "Maybe they are secrets, because nobody else knows about them. But maybe they aren't, because nobody else has ever wanted to hear about them."

Silence hovers between us. Emmett still smiles, as if it's impossible for him to wear any other expression. He takes a few heartbeats before his golden stare connects with mine again.

"I'll listen."

"You might." I push back the flicker of heat from deep inside of me, meeting his stare. "But it'd be more interesting to hear why you're doing this."

He nods slowly. "Doing what?"

"This." I glance down toward our knees. They still touch, although it seems as our conversation passed, we've come closer. Our thighs are touching now, pressed against each other without a sliver of space between them. It's almost as if they have gravitated closer on their own.

Emmett's eyes study my own before his torso falls back, weighing down on the porch. He draws in an unnecessarily deep breath. "Why I'm doing this?"

I nod, watching him reposition himself. "Yeah, that."

"This is different than it was with Rose," he begins in a steady tone. "She was the one that brought me to be changed. When I woke up, she was the first thing I saw. She was beautiful." Emmett leans further back against the stairs, his golden gaze roaming over my expression. "But it always seemed like it was about looks. Looks were important to her, so they had to have been something she looked for. My face was initially what had led her to save me, when she saw me. Not that I blame her." He chuckles. I smile slightly to myself, but don't comment. The effortless flow of his words has me in a trance—I listen intently to each and every sentence, taking it all in.

"It always might have been physical," he continues. "I mean, think about it. It started with looks, and then went on to be all physical for the first . . . hell, I don't even know how long, but it was a good while. Sure, she would keep me reined in and out of trouble, and sure, I could make her smile, but it didn't seem different from anything else. When I was human, I had a few girls . . . okay, okay. It was more like a few dozen. The thing is, they were all physical relationships—it was never nothing more than 'the one from the bar with the big brown eyes' or 'the owner of the mine's daughter with the nice ass.'" Emmett smirks, searching my smooth expression for a moment.

"I've forgotten all of their names and faces, because it wasn't really something equal. We got pleasure, and that was that. Pleasure, and nothing else. It wasn't balanced. My girl might have wanted to marry me, but I would trade her in an instant for someone with a better body. It was like that with all of them, and sometimes, with Rose, it felt just like that. I knew how willing she was to give everything—including me—up, just to be human again. She would have, if she was given the chance." He grimaces. There's a moment of silence before he continues on. "But, with you, there's just . . . something about you. I can't explain it. At least I know you're not just here for an invite to my bed."

My mind swims with all of the new information. I hold onto the deep hum of his tone, replaying his words over in my head a few times. My senses pull in as I drop my heavy focus. I swallow, nodding my head again. "You were like a duck."

Emmett raises his eyebrows. "When I said looks, I meant good looks."

"Not like that. Your looks are . . . not duck-like." I smile a little to myself at the sound of the words. "You were instantly gone with the first thing you saw in the world. It was the first thing you knew, and so you went with it."

He considers it for a moment before an amused smile breaks his serious expression. "Yeah, makes sense. So. You ever gotten down and dirty?"

I laugh once at his blunt question. My muscles tighten at the sound, but I am quick to loosen them, willing myself to relax. "I'm just as much of a virgin as you seem to be."

"Ooh. That's suspicious." Emmett winks, echoing my laugh. "That's gotta mean you've been in love before."

"I don't believe in love." My reply is instant, nearly fired.

He keeps up easily. "You don't believe in this?"

The speed of things rush my thoughts, picking up the speed. I feel control start to slide from my grasp, but this time, I catch it before it can slip away. I channel my focus into my control, shaking my head. It takes a few minutes, but even then I am at loss for words. My eyes meet Emmett's own again, searching for an escape.

Emmett's lips are still twisted, paused in the middle of a smile. He raises one hand, resting the tips of his fingers against my cheek before they slide through my hair. Chills run down my spine at the sensation of his hand brushing through my smooth locks. Emmett laughs, his deep boom of amusement, the sound full of a light, easy tone. There's something in his laughter and expression that's so contagious, I find myself laughing along with him.

He's happy. His happiness echoes inside of me, shooting through me. It's a spark, shot straight through my heart. I know, deep in the pits of my locked heart, that this really does mean something. That I really do believe in him. In one instant, I know this is final. This will be forever.

In the middle of our joined laughter, Emmett swoops down and presses his lips against mine. Our laughter fades, but it doesn't die as I return his kiss. Seconds pass, and the kiss continues on, and so does our laughter. We kiss and laugh, until I'm at the point where I only know I'm laughing and he's laughing but neither of us know why we're laughing. The sound of my own laughter shakes with a broken note, but the kiss still doesn't stop, even as I run short of air.

It's there again. The heat. The heat that even I have never felt before, a hot sensation that no other man has given me. It's a heat that's pulling me into him, drawing me in closer, begging me to let him claim me. Burning just to be his. The heat wraps around us, crackling in the air as our lips refuse to part.

_"This is a game,"_  a small voice hisses in my ear.  _"He is a threat. Trick him, but don't let him win."_

Instinct swells from deep within me. I find my hands knotting in his hair as I position my body over his. His kiss slows with surprise, but I still don't stop. My long, slender legs shift over the porch as I move to straddle him. I lean my body over his, hovering just inches above his muscled form.

Emmett's response is immediate, his eyes darkening. His hands close around my waist and he crushes my body against his, his arms becoming iron restraints around me. I growl into our heated kiss and tug at his hair. He rumbles, the sound just a low mutter in his chest. I pause, pulling out of the kiss for just a moment. I inhale the chill of his breath, breathing fire through his parted lips.

In that moment, the world stops.

Suddenly, the need to overpower him evaporates. This moment is so beautiful, so sensitive, yet I am just about to destroy it. I remain still for a moment, focusing on Emmett, channeling all my attention on him. It's almost as if nothing else matters. Almost, but not completely because of course, everything else does matter, and everything that matters is against the two of us. This is just something that will crumple and end, just like everything else in my life.

And of course, we won't ever have enough time to make sure that it doesn't happen.

The door creaks open. A tinkle of laughter trails through the door as two people slide through. The second laugh, one much more masculine, echoes the first but abruptly is cut off. A sharp intake of breath causes Emmett to turn his head. I look over his shoulder, only to see Hen—or Esme, whatever the hell its name is—place her hand over her heart. The man looks somewhat surprised, but there is a sort of fascination in his gaze.

"Oh dear!" Esme exclaims. She sounds embarrassed, at the least.

The man, Carlisle, looks between the two of us as we pull away from each other. His gaze rests on Emmett. "Our apologies, Emmett. We didn't realize—"

"It's fine." I cut the leader off. There isn't time to sit here and have them stutter through apologies. They're going to shoo me off soon enough, regardless. I slide completely off of Emmett's lap, standing on the bottom of the stairs. "I was just leaving."

Emmett is on his feet a moment later. "Hey now, hang on a sec."

"Honey, if she needs to go. . ."

I ignore Esme's wary words, focusing my gaze on Emmett. I stare at him, waiting for him to tell me he needs me to stay. The tug of the imprint is already reeling me back to him, persuading me to stay here, forgetting about Sam and the pack. Emmett grins at me before he speaks.

"You can't expect to be leaving so quick after that. I'm not gonna let you run off," he jokes. There isn't a single trace of misunderstanding in his tone, even as he continues on. "How about another date tomorrow? Just you and me, nothing fancy at all."

Carlisle and Esme exchange an amused look, but once again, I don't pay any mind to it. Instead, I flash a smile up at him. "The usual place?"

"It's a date," Emmett concludes with a huge grin.

Wasting no time at all, he pivots back around and leads his parents into the house, already starting some sort of light-hearted conversation. I shake my head, a smile spreading across my face in pure amusement. The whole atmosphere around him is lightened just due to his presence. It's not only enchanting; it's something else about him that's drawing me in.

I still don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I do know for a fact that if he's still trying for me, he has to be just as crazy as I am. And crazy plus crazy has to equal something right, doesn't it?

 


	36. We Might Fall

_"Tell me are you crazy and did you mind the cold?  
Tell me are you comfortable if comfortable at all?"_ - Ryan Star.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Six

We Might Fall

* * *

A night in my confined room and a mind filled with thoughts of Emmett leaves me restless. The internal rage of conflict within me hasn't calmed, and instinct still leaves me wired and constantly on guard. Each muted footfall is placed carefully, every intake of breath collected slowly as I taste the stuffy air.

I can hear my "family" downstairs: the clink of a fork hitting a plate, a short chew, and then a low drone of groggy laughter. They talk occasionally, quietly adding a comment or two to their half-asleep conversation. All the while, I remain upstairs, listening. Nobody seems to have noticed the soft push of feet against a wall and the slam of a window being thrown open. Or maybe nobody cares.

This is so screwed up that even I can't make sense of it. I'm more invisible as I have ever been, edging toward the title of 'outcast.' I'm no longer one of them.

I shake my head as the thought hits me, throwing open my door. I slip into the hall, brushing along the wall before I silently jog down the stairs. The laughter sounds again, echoing down the hall. I feel my jaw set as I round the counter, turning to face the kitchen.

Sam, Emily, and Nicole are seated around the edge of the round table, holding onto their forks as they stab at syrup-soaked pancakes. Scents of sugar and batter are heavy in the air, and a light layer of what appears to be flour rests on the counter. The warmth of the room seems to radiate off the two wolves, infecting the air with a light-hearted mood. I continue to stare, standing in place. Nobody even notices I'm there until Emily throws her head back, releasing a tinkle of laughter. I lean to the side, into her line of vision. Her gaze flickers in my direction, and the laughter cuts off.

They all raise their heads, freezing in place. I move into the kitchen as I'm acknowledged, my hand finding the spare seat at the table. There's no way in hell I can stuff my legs under the tiny table. I spin the chair around, settling down onto it. The chime of silverware stops, and every gaze locks on me. They look at me as if I'm a stranger, strolling inside and helping myself.

I snort. "Yeah, I still live here."

The stares drag on for a few more moments until I lift a brow. Emily's lips turn up at the edges, tugging at the scars on her face. She clears her throat, appearing to be friendly, although the fear shines clearly in her dark eyes. "Hello—Jordan, isn't it? I'm Emily."

I nod. She is so careful to give off a sweet and gentle vibe. I've never been one to trip for sweet-talk. It's actually kind of sickening, but of course, she doesn't know that.

"So I've heard," I respond casually. "I've also heard—"

"Jordan," Sam grumbles, "Don't even start."

My gaze turns over to Sam. He sits on the very edge of his seat with his fists balled up, so strained that his knuckles seem to be white. The table wobbles beneath the force he's exerting into keeping himself still.

"Start what? Is a little friendly conversation gonna kill her?" I've not even made a comment and they're already starting to snap at me?

"No." Sam exhales sharply, blinking as he shakes his head. "You don't need to be saying anything negative."

Emily frowns at his words. Her expression drops as she stretches a hand across the table, cupping her long fingers over his fist. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"She's what's wrong," Nicole interjects, not giving Sam a chance to speak. She rubs her lips together, glancing over at me with narrowed eyes. "Funny you've just started to join in. Ready to commit to your pack again, or are you going to go run off to that leech to play around some more?"

My sister's words puncture the bottled bit of self-control I hold onto. Heat floods my body while my lip curls back over my teeth. I close my shaking hands around the edge of the table, tearing straight through the cloth. I lean over the edge of it, my dark gaze meeting Nicole's evenly.

"Ah-ha! The truth comes out." I shake my head, laughing in a short, humorless way. "If I was so  _selfish_ , I'd kill the bloody bastard. Long ago, I would have. We've already missed the redhead, and that's all I've come here for. I would have been outta here  _months_  ago. But clearly, there's a lot more than one little leechie to worry over, and you could use an extra set of teeth. And clearly, if I'm gonna be a help around here, I've gotta pull myself together. If I don't, I could  _snap_. At any second, I could lose it and wipe out the whole tribe. If I don't take what he's trying to give me, if I don't give him a chance, the only 'helpful' thing I'll end up doing is slaughtering the whole damn tribe so we don't have anything  _to_  protect. Even though I'm finally starting to go somewhere, be someone instead of something, every little thing I do is a sin. Must I ask permission to  _breathe_? Damn!"

Silence.

It takes a few minutes for time to start again. I puff heavy breaths through my teeth, meeting every stunned stare. My shoulders still quiver, but my words have eased my fire. I slowly release the table, finger by finger, willing myself to stay down. There's a nervous shuffle of feet from beneath the table, but no other sound. Sam's eyes bulge, as if he can't take the language, while Nicole's mouth opens and shuts rapidly, unable to form words.

Emily seems to be the least affected, probably due to the fact she doesn't entirely understand the situation. Despite everything, she gulps and breaks the silence herself.

"Would you like anything to eat, Jordan? There is always enough for you here."

My gaze flickers between Sam and Nicole. "I'm fine." I release a heated breath, sliding out of my seat.

Sam pushes off of the table, standing just as I do. "And where do you think you're going?"

His tone is sharp, like a knife, but the blade has no effect on me. I shoot one darkened glance in his direction, but my feet are already moving. I duck out of the kitchen, reaching for the front door. "Away from here, that's for sure."

Sam is hot on my heels. His hand catches the door, his nostrils flaring as he glowers at me. "You will NOT—"

I swallow back a snarl, although I can't control myself as I knock his arm out of the way. I turn my gaze into his. "Go right ahead. Order me down on my damn knees. Make me obey your every wish and sit around here to kill everything and leave it to rot," I snap bitterly.

Sam's eyes tighten, and his jaw pops as it clenches. "We will be having a bonfire to night, up at the cliffs on First Beach. Make sure you're back by then."

"Don't get your hopes up," I mutter.

The door swings shut behind me.

()()()

The white hand wrapped around my own contrasts against my skin, like a russet wood of a tree against the snow. Emmett doesn't seem to notice, his fingers staying locked in mine even as the heat of my hand burns against his own. We walk in an easy silence, stepping in rhythm with each other. There haven't been any comments about my causal shirt and short denim shorts, as if it doesn't even matter that I haven't dressed up. Emmett seems to be just as attractive as always, although his jeans and shirt seem much more fancy than anything I've ever seen. Or maybe that's just me.

Moonlight filters through the break in the clouds. In the corner of my eye, I study the nearly invisible glimmer on his skin, and the way his dimples are visible as he smiles. My eyes can't seem to stay away from his sculpted chest, hidden by the shirt stretched across it. His golden eyes are bright again, filled with excitement as if he has something up his sleeve.

We walk until the trees become more and more spaced out. Emmett pauses then, guiding me forward. His eyes shine in the darkness, set on mine as he pulls me toward the tree line. Still silent, he grins at me again and steps aside, revealing a meadow.

The clouds seem to have been swept away in soft breeze, revealing millions of twinkling stars. Under the ink-black sky, arched green blades of grass sway, their tips dipped in silver moonlight. I've never been in this part of the forest, and I start to wonder why.

Emmett clears his throat, distracting my gaze. Wearing a huge grin, he leads me closer to him before he speaks. "You wanna snuggle?"

I laugh softly to myself, raising an eyebrow as if the question is completely inappropriate. "You wanna snuggle with a big, bad wolf?"

He opens his arms, inviting me in. "Hey, I'm very snuggable."

I smirk at him, leaning back. "I'm not easy. You're gonna have to earn it."

Taking advantage of his momentary confusion, I duck beneath his arms and shoot out into the meadow. The long grass is unfamiliar to my feet, tickling my skin as I go. I breeze through the open lands, although I can hear the whisper of Emmett's footsteps as he charges after me.

As he starts to close in, I slow, my feet pausing in the grass. Emmett reaches for me, but I swing around him, taking off in another direction. My footsteps are practiced and careful, finding bare patches in the meadow as to not disturb the grass. I grin as I run toward the opposite tree line, listening to the squish of Emmett's approaching feet.

They grow nearer and nearer, but I push on. Gradually, the sound fades into nothing, although I know better than to believe that Emmett has disappeared. He's only being silent, stalking me like a hunter. I smirk to myself, whipping my head from side to side, as if I am confused. Out of nowhere, an arm wraps around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I laugh as I'm spun, the world tilting. The next thing I know, I'm flat on my back with a grinning, smug man hovering over me.

Emmett laughs, his cool hand brushing along my neck as he pushes my hair back. "What do we have here? Did I just catch the big, bad wolf?" A smirk lifts on his lips, his buttery golden eyes burning with amusement.

I can't help but laugh softly, my gaze trained on his. "No, no, no. You've got it all wrong." I pause for effect while his eyebrows raise, a smirk twisting on my lips. "The big, bad wolf  _let_  you catch her."

Emmett laughs, the deep boom sending rumbles through his chest. I can't help but shudder at the sensation it gives me, but he continues to laugh, apparently not noticing. I grin at him. "And now I'm wondering if this is  _really_ how a vampire snuggles."

"You do talk a lot," Emmett reasons with a shrug. His dimpled grin appears out of nowhere, his eyes measuring the confusion in my own.

He chuckles again, his eyes roaming down my body and away from my face. My stomach knots while his eyes dilate, turning an impossible shade of black.

I stare as Emmett's throat moves in an unnecessary swallow. He lifts his gaze back to mine, his cool and sweet breath mixing with mine. "That's a nice shirt you're wearing."

My eyes drop down to the white tank top stretched over my torso. "Is it?"

Chuckling, Emmett braces his elbows against the grass, leaning closer to me. His face is inches from mine now, and my heart explodes into rapid, racing beats. A grin spreads across his face. "If you're done talking now, can you let me persuade you out of it?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. Emmett's lips crash against mine. His arms circle my waist, pulling me tight against him. I find my arms winding around his neck while his lips take control of mine. The moon and grass disappear beneath us as the kiss goes on. It's just him and me, with no other bother in the world.

Another touch of his lips sends another shot of ice into my veins, my heart in a frenzy. His lips work with mine, rough, slow, and deep. He doesn't even bother to pull away as I start to get short of breath.

Emmett's touch is an electric zap, bringing every part of me alive. I can feel his hands sliding under my shirt, testing the skin. They leave an icy trail behind as they glide along, memorizing the shape of my body. I'm responding to him, but it's all happening so fast, I don't know what's going on. Are my fingers tearing at his shirt, or his neck? Are the breaths of his scent drawing me in to go further, or triggering the instinctive need to defend? Is the heat inside me my own want and need for him, or the wolf within? Is this passion, or the monsters within us, trying to eliminate the other?

Time has frozen. I know I need air, but can't bring myself to break away to get it. I know this has to stop, but I can't make it happen. I'm melting into him, his body hovering over mine, the icy fire of his skin turning me into a puddle. My fingers knot into his hair, my mind locking down.

He notices the tension and pulls away with a soft growl, his nose brushing across my jaw before finding my throat. I can feel the slight pressure against the pulse there, his icy breath clouding over my skin as he inhales. His hands slither around my waist, finding the line of my torn denim shorts. I tense further, but he doesn't notice this time. His fingers trail from one hip to the other, as if testing my tolerance.

My hands clench in the fabric of his shirt. The memory of the shape of his muscle burns in my mind. They're just beneath the fabric, completely exposed. His skin—so tough, yet so smooth—is free to me, open for my fingers to explore. My head swims as my own shirt is being pulled higher and higher, while Emmett's kisses trail lower and lower, his cool lips pressing gently to the warm skin of my stomach.

I'm jolted with another shock of desire. I growl through my teeth. My head leans back into the grass, my body moving so close to his own. The long, slender shape of my leg hitches on his waist. He returns my growl, his mouth meeting mine again as he closes the distance between our clothed bodies.

Deep below the heat of the moment, I'm blazing. I know I can't give myself away to him, not now. Doing this is going to finalize things, securing another knot that I have yet to tie. Emmett doesn't know what he's in for just yet.

The wolf inside me comes out of nowhere, eating away at all the icy shocks. The wolf is a sudden fire, rushing through my veins and pushing everything else out. My hand flies out of his hair and slaps against Emmett's chest, holding him back.

Emmett hisses, the sound spitting through his teeth. His hand catches my arm, and for a moment, I think he's going to tear it away. Instead, his dark gaze meets mine. He frowns, looking over both his shoulders before he looks back at me.

"What? You don't want to try this again?"

I release a sharp breath. "Emmett, I can't. I can't do this until I'm sure."  _Not until I'm sure this is real._

In a flash, he's freed our tangled bodies and rolled off me. He rests beside me, settling into the grass. My throat thickens as I imagine what he must think. He probably feels rejected, hurt, or even angry. I force my gaze over to him, studying his expression. He winks at me.

"There's nothing better than a woman with some self-respect."

He's impossible. And I like that. The human in him is so strong to me, so vivid, that I can't even see him. Emmett, a vampire? Emmett? I don't see that in him. Something about his jokes, his optimism, his grins . . . something about it is so alluring, so powerful, that even I can't go against it.

"Don't you trust me?"

I stare back at him, realizing that I don't even know the answer myself yet. I avert my gaze, swallowing back the lump that rises in my throat. "The monster learning to trust nobody by another monster . . . original."

Emmett laughs lowly. "Monster?"

"I'm a killer," I say smoothly, feeling his gaze on the side of my face.

"Really now?" He shakes his head, amused. "So am I."

A short laugh escapes my lips. "But you wouldn't know what hit you, you'd just be gone. Just like that. I've killed so much, I've lost myself." I measure the denial in his eyes. "I'm barely hanging on to what I am."

Emmett continues to smile, although he doesn't reject my words. "Well, now you've found yourself here, with this guy." He points one finger at himself. "That's a pretty good deal."

I'm quiet for a minute. My thoughts are scattering, and I have to rein them in. I stare blankly at the sky, inhaling deeply as I focus. "Emmett?"

He turns his burning gaze back on me.

I run my tongue over my teeth, considering how to put my words before I speak. "Why are you still here?"

A chuckle passes through his lips. "Didn't I already go over this with you? In a nice big speech?"

"Yeah, you did. But is that really it?"

Emmett is quiet for a long moment. I hold his gaze, waiting patiently. His hand reaches up to slide through the smooth wave of my black hair, while his dark brows pull together. The remains of his smile still rest on his face, although when he speaks, his tone is completely serious.

"I might just be falling for you, Jordan Uley."

I freeze in place for a second. Instinct rejects the shutting down of my body, and I force my head to turn away from his intense stare, resting it back in the pillow of the grass. The world is completely still, although my mind races, whipping around and around with a billion thoughts. I collect myself quickly, holding onto the realization of what his words mean.

_He's screwed._

_He's suicidal._

_And he's serious._

My eyes tighten, and I force my mind to reject each negative thought. I part my lips slightly, drawing in a slow breath. "This is a recipe for disaster."

Emmett shifts around in the cool grass, turning his body toward mine. "You said it yourself—men love a challenge.

"I have a lot more shit to get together than you think, Emmett."

"Great," he answers with a grin. "Where do we start?"

I exhale before drawing in another humid breath. "And you're getting yourself in deeper than you think."

"If you can give me a chance, I can make it easy. Like breathing." Emmett's gaze lightens, the joking gleam in his eyes returning. He pulls himself across the glass, locking his arms around me. "But first, I'd like to snuggle."

My lips break out into a huge smile: a real one, teeth and all. My body relaxes just a little more as I let out a smile—I've been holding it in for a while. My warm body presses against his.

Despite myself, my thoughts are raging once more. My eyes trail past his face, staring up at the dull glow of stars in the dark sky. I focus hard on them, trying to will them to speak, hoping they will write out answers and tell us who we are and where we stand.

Instead of getting answers, Emmett turns his head. A smile curves on his lips and he leans in close. Emmett's cool lips are feather light on mine, and then gone. He rumbles in a content way before he draws away from me, silently reminding me he hasn't forgotten about my need for space. I glance at him, watching him cross his arms behind his head, trying not to notice how he looks, as if he's painted in a picture. I allow myself to stay close to him, resting on my side as I attempt to force my gaze away from him. Our breathing mixes and my heartbeat trails off, although I am far from completely relaxed.

The remains of the pleasure from our heated moment stir inside me. I shiver, my skin tingling as the chill runs down my spine. I hold my breath for a long moment, waiting until his gaze has moved for me to let it out. Even when my lungs burn, I hold my breath in, trying to suffocate the shiver out of me. My heart thumps wildly in my chest. I allow the minutes to tick past for a long while until finally, I feel as if my heart might burst from my chest.

He has fallen for a monster. A twisted, cruel, disgusting monster. He is falling for a lost cause—for someone unlovable.

_"I might just be falling for you, Jordan Uley."_

I clamp my teeth together, my heart stuttering. My dark gaze studies him, taking in his calm happiness. I take a few minutes to bottle up my pride before I allow my hand to crawl over the damp blades of grass. I stare steadily at his frozen figure, knowing he's watching, although he doesn't move until the tips of my warm fingers brush the icy cold of his hand.

The instant he senses my touch, those golden eyes connect with mine once more. He stares at me, waiting. My eyes brush over his face once more before I speak.

"Emmett, I'm. . ." My mind threatens to scatter again, all of my thoughts racing around with the unsettling pace of my heart. I push it back, seeing the reflection of my dark blue stare in his eyes before I force the words past my lips.

"I think I'm in . . . love."

He smirks, his lip curling up at the corners in amusement. "I knew that. I didn't have to get you out of your shirt to see that this—" He places the backs of his fingers on my chest, just above my heart, which goes wild under his touch, "—is mine."

I return his smirk. My tense shoulders drop as my muscles relax, my body feeling as if it is floating. "You really are having a little too much fun with this, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little," he admits with a chuckle, "But I will get that shirt off at some point, won't I?"

"There's a good chance."

He grins. "I'll be looking forward to it."

I smile to myself, shaking my head. I don't respond to him, knowing there isn't much else to say. My body moves closer to his, and he takes me in his arms. We don't bother to keep even an inch of cautious space between us. I rest my hands on his chest and study his expression as he gazes up at the stars.

As minutes tick by, one hand creeps up toward his face. The tips of my fingers stroke the firm shape of jaw, my eyes roaming over the features of his face. Breathtaking. He is breathtaking. Nothing strikes me more than his eyes as they turn toward mine, curiously searching the emotion mirrored in my own. His eyes are golden once more, all of the dark traces disappeared. It's not the color so much as how bright they are. They seem to shine, filled with a sort of ease and happiness that I've never seen before. I feel like I need to capture that light, keeping it alive. As if he is reading my thoughts, Emmett laughs once, his lips resting in my hair.

My life is one level of hell to the next; my scars can prove that. I am a demon lost in the constantly raging fire of reality and insanity. The flame of my purpose is burning out, until one golden gaze changes that. Suddenly, now that I have him, there is a flicker of hope. But I am one to know that in this world, when things seem to be getting better, it just means life is about to take a downhill dive. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not even anytime soon. But it's coming.

In the far distance, a howl rings out. The sound is curt and blunt, meant as a warning. I growl to myself, shaking my head as I pull away from him.

Emmett frowns, pushing himself up onto his elbows. I stand quickly, turning my back to him while I head off toward the dark shadows of the forest. I can't look at him now—temptation will get the better of me. I already hear little voices encouraging me to stay, but I shut them up with another growl.

"Have I scared you off?" Emmett asks.

"Duty calls," I answer a little too quickly. The words spin off my tongue and out my mouth, sounding nearly hostile.

"Gotcha." Emmett hops back to his feet, his unblinking stare settled on my expression. "Tomorrow?"

I pause at the edge of the meadow and risk a glance over my shoulder. I instantly regret it as I catch the disapproving gleam in his eyes. Something else pulls me back to him, drawing me to his strong form, into his muscled arms. . .

"Tomorrow," I answer smoothly.

Emmett's dimples appear as he grins. "Excellent."

My muscles tighten at the sight of his grin. I tear my gaze away from his face, releasing a sharp breath. I can't bear it any longer. I can't wait until tomorrow, I—

I push myself forward, forcing myself to disappear into the shadows of the forest. Darkness swallows me, although it doesn't trap me in. The grip of the forest's call—the desire that threatens to drown me in my own instincts—has fallen off my shoulders. There is no longer an ache inside of me as I pull out the wolf; there is no longer the burn of a need to kill to be complete. And that's all because my heart now lies in the hands of Emmett Cullen, and there just isn't enough of it left to share.


	37. The Tribal Tales

_"Life on Earth is changing_  
 _Life on Earth is ending_  
 _And time on Earth is ending_  
 _And time on Earth is changing."_  - Band of Horses.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Seven

The Tribal Tales

* * *

Green. Everything is green and wet. Very wet. In a land of constant rain, there isn't much else to expect. But now, as I sprint through the green forest, everything is  _too_  green, and much too humid, even though there's little more than a breath of humidity in the air. Everything is supposed to be golden, like the color of Emmett's burning eyes. It's supposed to be much colder, like the smoldering chill of Emmett's hold. It feels so  _wrong_  for me to be out here.

It feels even less right as I collide into a firm, heated figure.

"Watch it!"

I snarl at the bitter tone of the figure, blinking, only to find myself face to face with an angry Paul. My fingers curl into my palms, deadly weapons that can tear through his throat, his face, and his skull in seconds. Paul meets my gaze as I turn, scowling.

"Oh, it's just you." Paul takes a few steps back, sizing me up. His gaze drifts over my hands and he backs up a little further. "Coming in after a nice little play date with your sucker?" he challenges, his dark eyes blazing.

Challenge? I can't back down from that. I'm right up to Paul: eye to eye, teeth to teeth, temper to temper. "To hell with that. Cry yourself a nice big river; drown in your damn tears for all I care. As if you have a right to question, while you're scampering around out here like you don't have somewhere to be."

Paul's jaw pops out as it tightens. He remains in place, unwilling to shrink away from my advance. "For your information, Jordan, I was only looking to make sure you weren't  _dead_."

His venomous tone burns, blocking out all emotions that might have otherwise been triggered by his words. "I'm not gonna go anywhere, especially now that there's actually someone around who gives a shit. You're just as bad as the rest of them. Even thought I'm only doing it to help? To make things better for the tribe, and not just my own selfish little complaints?"

At least, at the start I was only doing it to help. But now those minutes shared with Emmett have blossomed into something much more than that. I leave that part out, though, knowing it will only spark a much bigger fire.

Anger radiates from Paul like heat from an oven. His eyes narrow into slits, his nostrils flaring as he breathes out steam. "Why  _him_? He's not even alive, damn it! If it was me, I . . . I'd be _right_  for you! But you don't even know that, because you're his eternal slave! You're enslaved to a leech!"

"Oh, so that's what this is about?" I take a step forward. "Not interested, Paul. I'm not going to throw a fit over your sudden interest. If you cared so damn much, you had two years to go after me and get me. A little too late now, don't you think?"

"You're blind!" Paul shouts, his eyes wild with fury. "You're blinded by the . . .  _imprint_! You've lost your  _mind_!"

My eyes narrow, feeling the sparks sizzle between us. They aren't sparks of attraction, though. They're sparks of pure rage, our natural tempers flaring. "I lost my mind long before he came into the picture. If I had a choice, I still wouldn't have run after you broken down like a pathetic, brainless puzzle. I'm not breaking down; I will  _not_  let go. I'm far gone, enough that it shouldn't be any of your concern."

Without thinking, Paul's hands clamp down on my shoulders. He shouts again, his words lost in the pounding of my heartbeat. Blood shoots through my veins, pumping heavily with the rapid beating of my heart. My hand clenches before swinging forward, crunching into Paul's nose. Red spills out, staining my knuckles. Paul howls out in rage, dropping his hands to crack his nose back in place.

The pounding in my ears fades to a ring. The whistle of it blocks out all other sounds for a long moment. I stand straight and tall, watching Paul's form start to blur. He looks up as he fixes his nose. I can see the wolf in his eyes, the anger boiling inside. His breath comes in heavy huffs through his teeth. I am quick to land a kick square into his gut, knocking Paul far away from me as he erupts into his wolf form.

In the heat of the moment, Paul's phasing is like an explosion. The blast of heat screams in my ears, bringing me back to the present. My eyes land on Paul just as he rights himself, readying himself to attack. On reflex, I bend and stretch, slamming down on my paws in a heartbeat. Paul is there as my paws touch the ground, his jaws spread and his aim directed right at my throat.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment, Paul seems to have the advantage, his jaws closing over my throat. The next, blood is pouring from his muzzle as he lay on his side on the ground. It takes every fiber within me, every ounce of the small portion of control I have, to hold my ground, playing defense. Paul rises again, throwing his weight at me. I lunge straight into his own, lowering my head like a bull as I slam into him just as his paws leave the ground.

As we break away, both of us fall back into our human forms. The ground is hard and cold against my bare body, the rain soaking me in seconds. Paul scrambles over the wet leaves as I sit up, trying to cover himself. I'm so used to phasing back abruptly by now, I don't think anything of it. My eyes catch a glimpse of Paul's figure, but everything is blurred together in a swirl of color. I'm no longer attracted to anyone anymore—there's nothing to see.

Paul has managed to duck behind a tree. He watches as I slide behind my own barrier, his eyes shining with a sort of new emotion. Something like respect. It's about time he learned his place. He has a thick skull—it only took a few ass kickings to get through to him.

For a few moments, Paul is silent. He swallows hard, sighing as he hangs his head, his hands covering his face as he wipes off the blood. "Sorry."

"Humiliation is a good enough 'punishment' for you," I muse. My tone is not as hard as I expected, more controlled than it usually is.

Paul frowns, subconsciously moving closer to the tree. "What do you mean?"

I nod to his hidden form. "Just wait 'till one of the pack comes by and sees you in all your glory. I'm sure that'll refresh your pride."

Paul glowers, as if the idea is repulsive. "Whatever you say, genius. How are we gonna get clothes?"

My head tilts to the side. I allow my senses to stretch out, exploring the forest around me. I listen past the light patter of rain on the ground, focusing on a dull hum. As I listen closer, the sound grows more distinct. I can pick out voices and the buzz of electricity. It's some sort of TV show, with gloomy music in the background. And TV shows come from TVs, which are in houses.

"Hear it?"

Paul cocks his head, leaning forward. He takes a few minutes to pick out the same sounds, but as he does, he nods quickly. "What are we gonna do?"

"We'll get to that."

I slip through the brush without saying anything else. The house is close, just a dozen yards out. We probably should be worried that the owner of the house has heard the fight, but by the sounds of it, he or she is much too interested in their TV show to even notice.

It doesn't take long for both of us to reach the house. Paul keeps a good distance away from me, his tension giving off his worry. He only tenses further as he picks up on Embry's scent. I smile slightly to myself, picturing the look on his face if his mother describes the whole thing to him.

We stop at the edge of the tree line, keeping only a couple of trees and a small yard between us and the house. I lean behind the tree, studying the small one-story house. A few minutes pass, and Paul remains in place. I shake my head, raising my voice as I speak so he can hear.

"We're on the rez. Nobody can afford motion detectors, Paul. Go ring the bell," I murmur.

Paul stares blankly in my direction, as if I've just murdered his only friend. " _Ring the bell_? You want me to walk up there  _naked_?"

I growl under my breath in disapproval. Impatience gets the better of me. My fingers tear into the tree beneath my hand, tearing out a nice sized chunk. I lean around the tree, hurling the wedge of bark straight at a window. The glass shudders as the wood ricocheted off its surface. It holds together for a split second before it shatters. Glass rains down the side of the house, leaving only chipped shards wedged in the window's frame. Seconds later, a woman throws open the door, rushing out onto the porch.

The woman knots both hands into her black hair as she sees the glass, her eyes popping.

"What on earth happened?!" she shrieks. She scans the forest before peering over either side of the house. Seeing nothing, the woman gives a scream of frustration and crouches, gathering bits of glass into her palm.

Paul looks over at me, his eyes expectant. I shake my head quickly, gesturing for him to move forward. Paul's expression darkens, his mouth moving to form a silent curse. He bites his lip, leaning around the tree before he saunters forward, grimacing as he shifts into a bush. I earn a fierce glare, but Paul can't blame me for being born as a man. It was natural for him to walk around topless. A man can wear a bush much better than a woman can.

Paul shifts awkwardly in place. He watches the woman—Embry's mother—for a few moments, clearing his throat before he speaks. "Hey, uh . . . Mrs. Call?"

Mrs. Call's eyes widen as she whirls around, her gaze locking on Paul. "What . . . you . . . did  _you_  did this?!" Her eyes move to the tattoo on Paul's shoulder. She gasps loudly and stumbles back, one hand covering her heart while the other catches the porch to steady herself. Her face pales. "You're one of those rebel boys! Ack! I should have known!"

"No, I'm not," Paul says quickly. "I—"

"Don't you dare argue with me! You broke my window! What will Embry take from this?! Once I figure out what's going on with the group of you . . . oh, you  _will_  be—"

"I need some damn clothes, woman!"

Ms. Call stares, completely appalled by Paul's outburst. She remains frozen in place for a few seconds before she blinks, seeming oblivious to the fact that Paul's standing behind a bush for a reason. "What?"

I growl under my breath, bracing my hands against the trunk of the tree, positioning myself so my arms hide my breasts. I push myself around the tree, making my presence known without revealing anything unnecessary. "Both of us are naked, and we need clothes," I say slowly, as if speaking to a child. I pause for a moment, deciding to throw something else in to sound more human-like. "And we're freezing our asses off. Yeah, it's June, but we're only human. No match for mother nature, although some clothes would keep our human selves from getting sick."

I'm not sure how the average person reacts to two people coming up to them in the nude, asking to borrow some clothes, but Mrs. Call is a little too overdramatic about the situation, in my opinion. She frantically bats her widened chocolate eyes. The russet tone of her face darkens around her cheeks, her expression flooding with a strange mixture of understanding and pure embarrassment as she assumes the worst. Her mouth pops open, her gaze darting from tree to tree.

"What are you . . . you  _barbarians_  teaching my son?!"

Paul's mouth opens as if to speak, but my impatience has gotten the better of me. I am quick to cut him off. "Clearly not fashion sense. But that doesn't matter, because neither of us have all night to be standing around naked."

She makes a sound somewhere in between a frustrated scream and a horrified squeal before finally hurrying up inside, forgetting to shut the door behind her. My hearing picks up on the bash of a door into the wall and a sprinkle of expensive glass on the floor. Paul guffaws beside me at the noises coming from inside, but I remain locked in place, staring at the door.

There are a few more slamming sounds until Mrs. Call hurries back out the door. A bundle of clothing is folded neatly into her hands. She reaches the edge of the muddy lawn, standing just a few feet away from Paul. Her gaze moves up to stare at the dim sky as she reaches out, holding the clothing out.

"I-It's not much, but it's all Embry and I have," she whispers hesitantly.

"Yeah, it's cool. Thanks." Paul pulls out the pair of cutoffs from the pile, tossing the rest behind his shoulder without a second glance.

I neatly snatch the clothes out of the air and avert my gaze as Paul hitches the cut-offs up to his hips. The clothes are warm but damp, as if they have just been pulled out of the laundry. I can't complain, though. I'm lucky to have random sources of clothing around, especially since I seem to need them much too often.

The shorts are a little too revealing, meant for much shorter legs. I shake my head at them and turn the offered bra in my hands. It looks like it's meant for a thirteen-year-old girl and not a rather filled out woman. I snort and toss it aside, not bothering to attempt to squeeze it over my form and suffocate my breasts. Instead, I slowly start to force the dull-colored shirt over my head.

A patch of skin on my neck heats up. It's a warning, my body's own alarm that screams of an audience. I snort. Paul always has been a pervert. 'Privacy' isn't a word in his dictionary. Changing in the open is a mindless habit for me. I've been doing it for a while, so I think nothing of it. But Paul is Paul, and although Paul will always be Paul, I won't put up with his tricks. I should break a few bones for that, maybe even disable any chance of his reproduction. But I know better. The monster is still there, and the monster won't just fight. The monster either defends or kills. Nothing less.

To get the message across, I reach back to casually brush my hair over my neck. My hand trails over to my shoulder where I flatten out my hand, and in full view, stick my middle finger straight up. There's a muffled chuckle and a shuffle of brush before my body temperature returns to normal.

Once I've slid on the clothes, I glance back at Paul, who seems busy studying the ground. I clear my throat. "Ready?"

"Wait!"

I clench my jaw, turning my head as Paul does. Mrs. Call takes a wary step toward the shadows, and then thinks better of it and moves back. She gulps, her eyes darting between Paul and my nearly invisible forms.

"What's going on at the cliffs tonight?"

Desperation is clear in her eyes. She wants to know what's going on with her son, what he's really into. I speak smoothly, my words coming slowly for emphasis. "Tribal meeting. If you still want to keep your house, I suggest you stay home."

I don't wait for her answer. She's taken enough time from us as it is. I head forward, deeper into the forest, my pace already set into a steady jog as I hit the trails. Mrs. Call's stomping footsteps are audible even as I head farther into the distance. Eventually, they disappear completely.

That's when Paul starts to laugh.

He meets my stare, his lips spreading in a huge grin. "You're really good with people, Jord."

"Am I?" The sarcastic response comes out as a question.

Paul picks up his pace, trying to catch up with me. "Hell yeah! Did you see the look on her face?"

"I have two working eyes, so there's a good chance."

"C'mon," Paul says with a frown. "Don't be so down on yourself."

"Don't try to sweet talk me," I mutter. My speed builds, so Paul has to pump his arms hard to catch up. I keep my gaze focused only on the trail ahead, aware of the scent of ash in the near distance.

"It's hard not to when you're so awfully upset."

"And just what is it that makes you think I'm about to fall into a pit of depression?" My tone is sharp as the defensive instinct speaks inside of me.

Paul is quiet for a moment. He cranes his head, searching the forest as the trees start to thin. I remain silent as well, knowing better than to believe that he's dropped the conversation.

"Everything," he finally says.

I exhale sharply, trying hard not to clench my jaw. "Let's just get through tonight, alive, and worry about that later."

"If you insist. . ."

The trail ends abruptly, almost as if it's an ironic yet firm closure to our conversation. The trail stops before the smooth surface of a cliff. The cliff juts out of the middle of the forest, like a bare thumb on a gloved hand, although it looks perfectly in place beneath the inky sky. A fire dances in the middle of the cliff, and pack members are circled around it. All of them are on the ground, lazily sprawled out, other than the few elders who rest in lawn chairs. I recognize the faces of Billy, Old Quil, and Sue, who seem perfectly relaxed. The pack members are just as at ease, all of them seated in their own spot with the exception of Jared and a girl who he holds tight to his chest. Kim is her name—the girl that's always under the spotlight in his thoughts.

A few of the guys turn their heads as they sense our approach. They grin, calling out jumbled greetings. The voices trail off as eyes rest on me. Each grin falters.

Jared offers a nod, and Kim studies me curiously. Others turn their heads. Embry stares at me funny, his gaze set below my eyes. I take only a second to remember how flimsy my clothing is, barely covering my body. My gaze hardens, and Embry is quick to avert his attention. He looks over at Brady and Collin on the opposite side of him. Both fidget with pebbles from the ground, looking as if they're about to piss themselves.

Awesome.

Despite the disapproval, I continue to move forward. I can tell even from a short distance that the loose circle of the pack isn't filled in. Others are missing, and the pack seems distraught while being incomplete. Nobody is talking and laughing, and all joking seems to be out of the question. I'm not the only one to notice.

Paul drops down in front of the fire, scooching to the side to make room for me. "Where are Jake and Seth?" he asks.

I settle down beside Paul, making sure I have enough room to myself. There isn't any point for me to speak—the pack will treat me like I am empty air anyway. Instead, I amuse myself by studying the flames of the fire.

There's a noticeable silence as I take my seat. Sue, seated back with the elders, is the one to answer. "He went with Jacob to go get Bella, Paul," she says casually.

Figures.

"Why?" Paul snorts. "Can't they just leave her there? And if he's gonna drag her here, they could at _least_  be on time."

Sue casts an annoyed look in Paul's direction. Billy is quick to start another conversation, forcing Sue to focus her attention on him and Harry. Jared is the one to answer this time, speaking across the fire as he strokes Kim's hair.

"Jacob's probably stalling. Probably scared he'll get attacked."

Laughter rises around the fire. I smirk myself at the indirect jibe. It's like a compliment, in my ears.

Embry shakes his head. "Or maybe he's spent so much time running double shift to watch her, he finally crashed."

"Dude, no," Quil grumbles. "That better not be what's taking so long. If it is, he'd better wake up quick. I'm hungry!"

Another round of laughter follows Quil's comment. The tension is melting as everyone realizes I'm not here to tear out their throats. Brady and Collin are even grinning, talking quietly between themselves, and chuckling.

Nicole is the only one who doesn't seem to be relaxing. Her expression is a sneer, as if she can't believe I'm here. She probably has been expecting me to not show up at all. Although Nicole appears oblivious to my gaze, it's clear she can feel it. She starts to speak, but the words aren't heard.

As if on queue, Sam and Emily appear at the end of the trail, making their way across the bumpy ground toward the fire.

"Who's hungry?" Emily calls out, her light voice ringing out over the cliff.

Various hoots and hollers rise up from the circle. Everyone is on their feet at once, and Emily hands each reaching hand a wire hanger. She smiles apologetically as she hands one to me, pausing for a moment before handing one to Paul. Sam comes up from behind her, his arms overloaded with a mountain of food. He manages to catch my eye from behind a bag of hot dog buns and nod his head in approval before he crouches down to sort out the food.

"How does this even work?" Kim whispers to Jared. She turns the wire hanger in her hands, her brow creased.

Jared doesn't answer. He has already flattened his wire hanger out and is lunging for the first hot dog. Kim giggles shyly, glancing around as if she's embarrassed before she follows his lead.

Soon, the whole pack swarms around the food, snatching whatever they can get their hands on. Hot dogs, pop, and super-sized bags of chips are tossed from one hand to the next. As the pack departs to move back into their spaces around the fire, there isn't a single scrap left on the ground.

Chatter starts soon after the food is passed around. Billy, Sue, and Old Quil, seated in the only chairs at the meeting, have their heads together, discussing something quietly among themselves. Sam and Emily cuddle up together, sharing a few hot dogs, while Jared and Kim laugh and shove food at each other's faces. The newer wolves, Collin and Brady, don't even have time to talk as they each snatch up a two-liter of Pepsi and proceed to chug it down as fast as they can. Quil and Embry follow after them, their light-hearted conversation trailing off as they cram a countless amount of hot dogs in their mouths.

The warmth in the atmosphere is comforting, like a family huddled around a fireplace on a cold winter night. Despite the easy-going feeling in the air, Leah remains cold, not thawing out the slightest bit. Sitting Indian style on the ground across from Sam and Emily, she holds out an empty wire-hanger in front of her and says nothing, her dark stare locked on the fire. Nobody has even bothered to sit next to her, seeming to want to give her space. I study her for a moment, starting to say something, but Paul nudges my side before I get the chance.

"She's just a little pissy. Don't mind it," Paul says around a large mouthful of potato chips.

I raise an eyebrow, popping a handful of chips into my mouth. "Ignoring her isn't what will fix things."

"Maybe not." Paul shrugs his broad shoulders, shoveling the rest of the chips into his mouth before washing them down with a large swig of Root Beer. "But it will keep anybody here from getting bitched at."

My hands put a hot dog and bun together as Paul speaks. "Lately, it hasn't been Leah who's been doing the bitching."

Paul studies my expression for a moment, clueless. "Leah? Not bitching and nagging?" He snorts. "I'll be aging again before  _that_  happens."

I shake my head, chewing through my hot dog before I answer. "Jacob's been the real pissy one lately. That's probably what happens when he wastes his time playing around with the leech toy."

Paul chortles at my comment, his expression relaxing with realization. He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off. Nicole, who has been picking at a chip beside Sam and Emily, suddenly has an interest in our conversation as Jacob's name comes up. Her icy eyes narrow.

"Shut up, Jordan," she spits.

Sam and Emily both turn their heads, their own conversation trailing off as Nicole speaks. I stare evenly at Nicole, holding her stare. Her shoulders tense.

"If you wanna be Jacob's piss on, feel free to get outta here and run after him like a whimpering fool. He's not worth it."

Nicole's eyes flash. She stares, her hands trembling. For a moment, it looks like she's about to phase, but Emily reaches out and touches her shoulder. Nicole's gaze rests on Sam and Emily, pausing, before she relaxes and turns toward the fire, fuming in silence.

Paul clears his throat beside me. I look over at him, catching the clear amusement in his expression. He winks at me before waving a hand over at Collin and Brady.

"Toss one over here, will ya?"

"No prob," Brady answers. He picks up a nearly burnt hot dog from his half-empty plate and flings it over the fire in Paul's direction.

The hot dog whistles through the air, turning over and over as it flies toward Paul. My eyes zero in on it, watching as it comes closer. I grab my crushed wire hanger and stab it through the air. The point of the wire hanger slides neatly through the middle of the hot dog, stopping it right in front of Paul's face. I smirk to myself.

Paul's dark eyes narrow. His eyes focus on the hot dog as he speaks. "Haven't you had enough?!"

I laugh at his expression, raising the blistered skin of the hot dog to my lips. "And you haven't?"

There isn't an answer. Instead, Paul glares, his eyes burning with fury. I rest my gaze on his, tilting my head slightly as I close my front teeth over the tip. Paul's hands ball into fists.

"Sheesh, calm down, Paul," Jared mutters from across the fire. He reaches around Kim and snags an untouched hot dog from his plate, throwing it straight at Paul.

Paul grabs the hot dog in mid-air, grinning as he slaps a bun around it. "Thanks, man."

Out of nowhere, my sensitive hearing picks up on a sound in the forest. It's more than just the scurry of rodents, or the howl of wind. The brush rustles, twigs snapping beneath feet. My eyes lock on the mouth of the trail expectantly.

Many members of the pack turn their heads as the sounds grow louder, coming closer. I pay no mind to the other wolves as I watch and wait. The unmistakable scent of vampire mixed with a strong tang of shampoo brushes my nostrils. He's coming, and he's bringing her along.

Seconds later, Jacob and Miss Precious herself arrive at the end of the trail. They're walking together, their sides brushing as they go. Jacob is going on about some sort of pizza incident, and Bella is smiling as if it's the funniest thing in the world; as if Jacob  _is_  her world. It's all a lie, a show she's putting on. Jacob is her puppet, tied to strings that are in her control. Strings that she uses to fling Jacob around like a rag doll.

What Jacob doesn't seem to realize is the second Bella's bloodsucker sticks his fangs into her throat, the strings she has tied onto Jacob will constrict him. He will be affected, just as many others will, all who have been blind by the selfish desires of the little bitch.

It's even worse that little Seth Clearwater tags along behind the two of them, grinning as he follows Jacob, so intent on looking up to a man who is making all the wrong choices.

Paul senses my stare. He leans closer to me, his lips barely moving as he speaks. "You'd think Seth was in love with him," he mumbles under his breath, nodding at our approaching pack mates.

Jared smirks from across the fire. "You got that impression too? Must be the twinkle in his eyes."

"Hey now. Can it," Sam mutters sharply.

I don't respond. My stare is dark, probably the deepest blue they've ever been. As Jacob and Bella come near the fire, they look up, both of them smiling as they move forward to take their places at the gathering.

"Hey, vampire girl!" Quil hollers.

Nobody else says a thing.

Bella smiles, just a weak twist of her lips. She doesn't care about Quil. She's only here to play with Jacob. Embry has always been buddy-buddy with Jacob and Quil, following after them without much more than a shy word or two. He is the quiet shadow in their friendship, but even he doesn't seem to agree with Jacob bringing Bella along. Embry glances at Quil and shakes his head, turning his gaze away from Jacob and Bella as if he doesn't even want to see them there.

News of Bella's approaching transformation has leaked into the pack mind. I've seen it before, in the background of Jacob's thoughts as he snaps and snarls at me. They've heard my words and seen the proof. The pack doesn't need any other evidence. Soon, Bella Swan will be an enemy. Soon, if she is changed, she will die at the teeth and claws of one of us.

The nearly nonstop chatter has stopped. Even the elders have quieted, turning their attention on the group of us. The fire crackles, and in the far distance, waves whoosh over the beach. Everything else has hushed completely. Even Kim, human, half-clueless Kim, hides in Jared's chest. Emily shifts and forces a small smile, but she doesn't meet Bella's eyes.

Bella glances around the fire, her eyes watching as Seth plops down next to Leah and helps himself to a bag of Doritos. There's a sort of sympathetic look in her eyes; the kind of look at bluntly says 'sucks to be them.' I want to laugh, knowing that she thinks being a wolf really is a curse. The only bad thing there is in this life is living to protect the little ass-kiss.

I smirk slightly to myself, holding back my critical comments, although other words spill through my lips without warning. "Gonna stand there and gawk, or can we get started?"

The pair of innocent brown eyes settles on me. Her mouth pops open in surprise, as if she hasn't even realized that I am here. She makes a small noise of surprise, her eyes widening. I grow slightly smugger as Jacob circles his arm around her, shielding her with his body. His jaw tightens, his deep-set eyes probing mine. For a moment, the fire flickers in his dark gaze, but he lowers himself onto the ground with Bella tight to his side, not saying a word.

A mumble runs through the pack, a senseless jumble of words dropping from each mouth. The tension is thick as the once easy-going feeling in the air is weighed down by Bella's presence. Bella continues to stare fearfully in my direction as if she is paralyzed beneath my steady stare. She takes a few minutes before she's able to swallow, and then a few more before she looks up at Jacob, whispering to him as if the group of us is deaf.

"I don't think this is the best idea, Jake. I-It's getting late."

A grin spreads over Jacob's face. He's making a point to ignore me now as he chews on his own hot dog. "Don't worry, we're only here for the best part."

Bella frowns, her eyes giving away her growing fear. "The best part? Does that include getting yelled at by a pack of angry wolf-men?"

Jacob shakes his head, forcing down his hot dog in one big gulp. "Stories."

Bella's dark eyes blink in confusion. She is really putting on an innocent act, looking like a damn lamb being herded into the barn for slaughter. "Stories?"

"The stories that have always assumed to be legends. The legends of how our tribe came to be."

Jacob's words are an indirect introduction. Half of the pack suddenly has better posture. Jared nudges Kim, helping her to sit up with him. Emily pulls out a notebook, her pen already sprinting across the page, recording early notes. Brady, Collin, and Quil lean forward eagerly. Seth mimics the action, while Leah glances at her brother, shakes her head, and closes her eyes. I know I should be just as eager, as it's my first time hearing the legends after my two-year absence. But I can already predict what Billy has to say before words leave his mouth. The elders lean back into their chairs, while Billy claps his hands together and clears his throat.

"Our tribe has been small from the beginning," Billy begins without further introduction. "The Quileutes are still a small tribe, but we have never faded. This is because of the magic that runs in our veins, passed down from generation to generation. Before there was the magic of shape-shifting, our people were spirit warriors."

Every wolf around the fire stares intensely at Billy, completely focused. My senses sharpen, and then un-focus. The world around me starts to fade as Billy continues on in a majestic voice, the words flowing effortlessly from his mouth.

"The Quileute tribe settled in La Push and became efficient fishermen and shipbuilders. As time passed, other people coveted their land and moved against them for it. The tribe was small and could not defend themselves, so they took their ships and left the land. . ."

_Far out at sea, the tribal people sense the threat. They stare out at the thrashing waves, knowing that their lands are still there, poisoned by their enemy. The elders call upon a group of men, all of whom are set and ready to fight. The men huddle down on the ships, leaving their bodies in the care of the women as their spirits fly out of their bodies. The group of them disappear over the sea, heading out to the camp of the enemy. They target the thick-furred dogs, tied up to sleds. The spirits are nothing more than empty air to the enemy, although the dogs raise their heads as a few sports approach. The spirits speak to the dogs, who listen closely with perked ears, their gazes steady, although there is no reflection in their pupils. As the group of spirits work with the dogs, other disperse to head up to the caverns, where they gather large groups of bats. The spirits join each other once more, combining their forces. They wait for the enemy to ease into their calm time of dinner before they attack._

_For a moment, everything in still. Then, out of nowhere, fierce winds burst into the camp. Deafening is brought through the whistle of the winds. Packs of dogs snarl through gleaming teeth, turning on their masters and breaking free from their sleds, attacking without any thought. The enemy tribe erupts into a panic. Many cover their ears and cry out, scrambling toward the trees as they abandon everything they have to their name in a rash need to escape. Men grab their spears, only to be swallowed by a swarm of fluttering bats. Women grab their husbands and children, hurrying out of the village while screaming curses at the harbor._

_It only takes minutes. All the while, the spirits hover over the enemy tribe. They watch with glee as the enemy disappears into the forest below their eyes. A few of them drift down to speak to the dogs, thanking them for their help, while the others head back to their ships, returning to their bodies as victorious men._

"Man, it'd be like walking on air," Brady whispers.

"Dude, they are made of air!" Collin whispers back to him.

Brady frowns for a moment. "Oh . . . made of air, just like your brain!"

"S'okay, I get it from you!"

They start to snicker, playfully slugging each other on the shoulders. As the noise rises, Sam shakes his head, shutting them up with one look. Billy ignores the interruption, speaking straight over it.

"Generations passed, and the last of the great Spirit Chiefs came to be. Taha Aki was a man of peace and was known for his wisdom. However, there was one man named Utlapa who believed that they should use their magic to expand their control over the Hohs and the Makahs, building an empire. . ."

_The spirits leave their bodies, joining each other once more. Their minds connect instantly, and Taha Aki is instantly informed of Utlapa's plan. He bans him from the tribe, watching as Utlapa returns to his body and hides in the thick forests._

_Taha Aki remains on guard, protecting his people even in the absence of a threat. As the sun rises, he would leave the village and visit his sacred place in the mountains. His body lay unattended as he searches the forests and mountains for any threats._

_One day, the spirit of Taha Aki leaves his body, unaware that he is being followed. Utlapa remains hidden behind a slab of rock, his stone knife clenched in his head. He moves forward once he is sure Taha Aki is gone, raising the knife. But, as Utlapa goes to kill him, he is struck with another plan. Utlapa leaves his body, enters Taha Aki's, and then uses his knife to slit the throat of his own body. Taha Aki has already seen the plan the second Utlapa has entered the spirit world. But, as he races to his sacred place, all that is left there is the dead body of Utlapa._

_Utlapa, wearing Taha Aki's skin, returns to the tribe. Taha Aki watches from the spirit world, unable to reach out to his people. He holds only despair as his people are blind to Utlapa's presence, believing that he is truly Taha Aki. Utlapa is quick to make an edit: no warrior may enter the spirit world. As the tribal people question the strange idea, Utlapa is quick to claim he has had a vision of danger. The tribal people have no choice but to obey._

_As time passes, Utlapa takes liberties with the tribe that no one ever dreamed of. He takes a second and a third wife, even though Taha, Aki's wife, still lived. Eventually, Taha Aki grew sick of Utlapa's doings. He sought out a great wolf in the mountains, guiding it down to kill Utlapa and free his people. However, as the wolf attacks, he kills a young man instead of Utlapa. Taha Aki pulls the wolf away from the tribe and flees, feeling a great weight of despair on his bodiless spirit._

_Taha Aki is doomed, forced to hover in agony over the line between life and death. He slowly floats through the forest, the great wolf padding along behind him. Taha Aki casts a jealous glance back at the animal. He watches it raise its head, studying the spirit of Taha Aki. Taha Aki shakes his head. At least the animal has a body to hold claim to in the world. Taha Aki's spirit freezes, suddenly struck with an idea. He moves closer through the trees, approaching the patient animal. He asks the wolf to share a body, forming the words slowly and carefully. The great wolf listens, and when Taha Aki is done speaking, bows his head._

_It is that moment that has changed the tribe forever._

_As a single being, the wolf and the man return to the village. The people spot the wolf instantly, recognizing it from its earlier attack. In fear, they call for the help of the warriors' to kill the wolf. The warriors come with spears in their hands, circling around the wolf. They start to close in, but stop in surprise as the wolf retreats. The wolf tosses his head, letting out sharp yelps that are in tune with the songs of the people. The warriors murmur among themselves, knowing what the wolf is doing can only be done if the animal is being influenced by a spirit. One by one, each spear lowers, and each warrior steps away._

_An old warrior, Yut, knows that the wolf is trying to say something. Disobeying the command of the false chief, he leaves his body in the arms of his wife and enters the spirit world. Taha Aki joins Yut in the spirit world, and the two instantly share the truth. Yut welcomes the chief, rejoicing._

_In the back of the crowd, Utlapa has been watching. He realizes what has happened, and he races toward Yut's abandoned body with his knife. The other warriors stare in confusion, not quite sure what to make of the strange actions of their chief. Yut is quick to return to his bodies, but his struggle is weakened with age, and he doesn't get the chance to warn the others before Utlapa slits his throat._

_Taha Aki, still in the spirit wolf, sees Yut's spirit pass on through the world to the next life. Taha Aki joins the wolf in his body, feeling a deep, hot rage. The warriors watch as the wolf's body shudders and shifts into a man right before their eyes. The man stands slowly, meeting the eyes of his warriors. He doesn't look similar to the body of Taha Aki, but instead, resembles Taha Aki's spirit-self, which the warriors recognize immediately._

_The man does not look like Taha Aki's body, but like his spirit self, which the warriors recognize instantly. The tribe turns on Utlapa as they realize what has happened. Although Utlapa does manage to outrun the warriors, Taha Aki has the strength of the wolf, and he is able to take Utlapa down in one blow. As Utlapa goes down, the tribe cheers, rejoicing the return of their true chief. The sounds ring out over the village before fading out._

Suddenly, the memories are replaced by the sound of Billy's voice.

"Upon realization of what had happened, everything returned to normal. The only change he kept in place was the forbidding of spirit travel. From then on, he was known as the Great Wolf or the Spirit Man. He led the tribe for many years because he did not age. He fathered many sons, who in time found that they, too, could turn into wolves on reaching manhood. However, they were all different because the wolf form reflected the spirit of the man. Some became warriors like Taha Aki and did not age, others did not like to transform and started to age."

Emily raises a hand suddenly, causing the words to stop. Her pen races across the page frantically for a few moments. She looks up, smiling apologetically. Kim gives her a thumbs up and she smiles, looking down at the notebook as Billy continues. I lean back, my eyes closing, letting the story continue as I wait for Billy's words to paint more pictures in my mind.

"After Taha Aki gave up his spirit self, trouble began in the North with the Makahs. Several young women had disappeared. Instantly, the neighboring tribe of wolves were to blame. However, all the wolves knew it better than to accuse one of their brethren because their minds were still connected with each other, and each thought from each wolf was innocent. Taha Aki did not want a war, unable to lead his people any longer. He gave his eldest son, Taha Wi, the responsibility of searching out the real culprit. Taha Wi led five wolves in search through mountains looking for evidence. The wolves found no body, but they did come across a strange, sweet scent. The trail led to a journey that took them so far from the tribe that Taha Wi sent his two younger brothers back to inform the chief. Taha Wi and the other two never returned.

"A year later, two Makah maidens were taken from their homes on the same night and the Makahs called upon the wolves. . ."

_A pack of wolves trot out into the forest, their heads raised with determination. A moon rises, and a sun sets. Only one of the wolves returns._

_He breaks through the forest early morning. The tribe instantly is alert, calling upon the chief. The wolf waits patiently for his father to approach him before he lowers his head. Pieces of a cold corpse tumble out of his mouth._

_The chief is stunned. He orders his son to resume his human form once more. The wolf nods his head, lowering his body to the ground. His eyes fall shut, and moments later, the body of the wolf has disappeared, replaced by that of Yaha Uta._

_Yaha Uta describes what he can, speaking in the native Quileute tongue. He describes the scent leading to an angelic man: beautiful, but impossibly strong. One of the wolves, a youngest brother, is too deep in his need to kill the man, and he dies at the mercy of the man's hands. Yaha Uta and his other brother are careful as they advance, but the creature has astonishing speed. He matches their movements and closes his hand around the back of the second wolf. Yaha Uta's wolf catches a glimpse of the creature's throat and doesn't hesitate. He tears away at the man with all he has, until all that is left is a pile of cold, rock-hard chunks._

_The bodies of his brothers never rise. Yaha Uta is too late, and is forced to return home without them._

_The tribe is quick to move onto the pieces of the creature's remains. As they watch, the chunks start to pull together, starting to reform on their own. The elders are quick to set fire to the pieces before they have a chance to attach completely. They spread the ashes far and wide, except a small bag which Taha Aki ties around his neck. In a meeting the following night, they share the story and name the creature the Cold One and the Blood Drinker._

_For many moons, the tribe lives in quiet fear, shuffling through their village each day without much life. It's not long before they are faced with another sweet scent. Yaha Uta warns the chief, and the tribe stands awake throughout the night. In the morning, a creature with skin as white as snow appears at the entrance of the village._

_In the eyes of the tribal people, she is the most beautiful creature they have ever seen. While many men and woman stare, in awe, one boy starts to back away, clamping a hand over his nose. He whispers to his mother about the smell, claiming that it burns in his nose. A nearby elder hears this and suddenly understands. He yells at the tribe to get away, throwing up his arms as he rushes forward, trying to clear them all away. The Cold Woman bares her teeth, and the elder is the first to die as a victim._

_Many helpless people_ — _men, women, and childre_ n— _are killed in the Cold Woman's sudden fit of rage. Her crimson eyes flash as she screeches in hatred, destroying anything that gets in her way. Yaha Uta is the first to charge forward, twisting into his wolf form. He throws himself at the Cold Woman as she stalks toward a child, but the Cold Woman is faster. She turns just in time, dodging the attack. Without missing a beat, the Cold Woman grabs the wolf's throat and sinks her teeth deep in his neck. The wolf yowls, his eyes bulging. Moments later, his body falls slack, and the Cold Woman drops the wolf at her feet._

_Taha Aki is the next to attack. Strengthened by anger, he leaves the side of his third wife, turning into an old grey wolf right before the eyes of the tribal people. He is careful to allow the Cold Woman to make the first move, and the fight begins. Right from the start, the wolf is thrown down with a mighty boom, and it is clear that this fight won't last much longer._

_The third wife's expression is contorted, stricken with utter grief. Her eyes gleam with fresh tears as she watches her husband's wolf throw himself into combat with the creature. The third wife cries out, but the large wolf and the Cold Woman continue to fight. Cracks and yelps ring out, and it is clear that there is only minutes, or maybe seconds, before the wolf will go down. Desperate, the third wife tears a knife out of the hands of her frozen sons. She drops to her knees, sobbing. The third wife draws in one final breath before she drives the point of the knife deep into her chest over her heart._

_Blood pools onto the dusty ground. The Cold Woman notices in an instant, her head snapping up as the scent reaches her nostrils. The Cold Woman's eyes darken with hunger, and she drops her hands. Before she even has a chance to move, the wolf sees his opportunity and strikes. He manages to wrestle her down, although his bones shake with weariness. The Cold Woman thrashes and shrieks, seeming to get the upper hand once more._

_Behind the wolf and Cold Woman, the wolf's sons quake with tremors. They let out an agonized cry before they all but explode into two giant, sharp-toothed wolves. The Cold Woman's eyes widen in fear. She turns her head to search for an escape, but there is no way out. The wolf of Taha Aki sinks his teeth into the Cold Woman's throat. The two smaller wolves, still shaken with anger, close in and tear away at the Cold Woman until she is nothing but bits and pieces._

_The two wolves slump away from the mangled remains. They pause at the edge of the trees, looking back over their shoulders. Taha Aki's wolf, drained and weak, falls down next to his wife's body. He rests is grizzled, grey muzzle on her chest, just over her heart._

_His body falls still._

The words cut off again, ending the whirl of images. Billy takes a shaky breath, as if he is tiring out. Old Quil pats his back, encouraging him to finish the story. He grimaces.

 _Images scroll through my mind. First a baby held in Taha Aki's arms, then a boy, a man_ — _a spitting image of Taha Aki_ — and  _then finally an elder, his hair flecked with grey. The images disappear for a moment, but then return. This time, there is three, first a baby, then a boy, and a man. There is no elder. This time, the men all pause, standing firmly on the grounds of their ancestors. Dead, empty crimson eyes reflect in their gazes as they explode into large wolves, taking off into the forest._

 _The wolves snarl and spit, their hackles raised and their muscles tense. They push forward, racing on and on, until they are face to face with a group of what they call the Pale Face. The wolves bare their teeth. Three against five_ — _it's an uneven match._

_However, these Pale Face don't want any harm. They watch the wolves with yellow eyes, crouched to defend themselves although they aren't making any advance. One steps forward, holding up his palms. His mouth moves, and although I can't make out the words, it's clear that the Pale Face is speaking to the wolves as if they are men._

_The leader_ — _Ephraim_ — _listens suspiciously. He hears that these Pale Face are different, and that they will not be of harm. The yellow eyes are proof enough, and the large russet wolf dips his head. It is final: the treaty is formed, stating that the wolves will not attack without these Pale Face causing harm. The wolves retreat slowly, watching. Each yellow stare remains unblinking, even as the world around the wolves closes off completely._

"Over the years, the coven left and returned to Forks, but they always remained true to their word and did not harm the tribe."

Releasing a large breath, Billy concludes his story. The timeless glint in his eyes disappears, and his forehead wrinkles with worry. "There is a threat out there now. All of us can feel it in our blood. We must be aware of our strengths and use the magic now to defend our tribe at all costs, just as our ancestors have." His gaze flickers in Bella's direction. "No matter what the consequence."

Emily's pen scribbles a few final thoughts before it slows. The pack lets out one large, synchronized breath, putting out the final flame of the fire. The light goes out, and it's all over.

"Wow," Seth whispers.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Jared murmurs. In the darkness, it's unclear if he's speaking to a drowsy Kim or the mystified newbies.

"Always is," Jacob answers. His form moves in the darkness, cradling a limp body in his arms. "Well, better get her home."

Paul and I exchange a suspicious glance. How much has Bella heard? What will she take away from this? As far as we all know, Bella will report this back to her leech the first chance she gets.

I'm on my feet instantly, standing before my groggy pack mates can even move. Some part of me wants to trail Jacob, following him back to the line. I need to make sure there's no threat from Bella's presence. We can't afford to have a disadvantage.

Sam's dark gaze settles on me, visible in the dull light of the embers. He stares at me for a long moment, as if silently saying that I might as well consider my plans spoiled.

"You need to go too, Jordan?" he asks.

Sam's tone is lighter now, the hard edge absent in his voice. He seems grateful that I've come, but his words ring with a sort of warning. I can feel all attention resting on me now, waiting for my decision as if it's a sentence.

For a moment, an image of Emmett's face flashes in my memory. I hear his voice in my ears; I feel a cool breath of his words in my ear. _Tomorrow._

I feel undone under the pressure of each expectant stare. Instinct wants me to burst into wolf form, fighting the threat back. But I've let go of most of that after I've given my heart away. Instinct isn't as strong as the rope of desire that has been looped around my neck and tied to Emmett. If I stay away too long, that rope will suffocate me.

Dramatics aren't really my thing, and heading back tonight is certain to spark something. I shake my head, feeling the gazes fall away at my words. "No, Sam. I don't."

The pressure eases off. I glance across the dead fire, only to see empty air. Jacob is long gone by now, and so is Bella. There is no point in sticking around any longer.

Without another word, I head toward the trees. The gathering has already started to break up as the time of the hour finally gets to everyone. I leave the last few people behind me, heading into the forest. The second I step into the shadows, the volume of my thoughts rise, becoming impossible to ignore.

Emmett is out there, somewhere, without me. The distance is so evident now; I feel it in a prominent ache in my heart. Do I really need to go? He could be waiting for me, right now, standing patiently by the line. He could be expecting me. . .

No, no, no. Tomorrow. He'll be there  _tomorrow_. I can wait. I _will_  wait.

Deep in my own internal conflict, my ears detect the sound of footsteps echoing my own, although I don't acknowledge the follower until he makes contact.

A hand catches my arm. I whip back around, only to find myself face to face with a grinning Paul. His grin widens at my expression.

"Hey, wait up a sec. I need to show you something."


	38. Sinking to the Depths

_"Now, I've got nothing left to lose_  
You take your time to choose  
I can tell you now  
Without a trace of fear." - Muse.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Eight

Sinking to the Depths

* * *

In life, I've fallen.

I feel myself plummet, the air whipping around me, my fingers sliding through empty air as I'm unable to catch myself.

The water parts around my figure. I hit the water with a splash, shooting down into a cold, dark world. I'm moving too quickly to make out shapes and colors, just the thick darkness that swallows me whole. By the time I'm able to snap my eyes open, the surface is gone, far away, out of reach. I can't breathe. I am silent, unable to speak. I'm caged in by the pressure of the water with no escape.

I sink down toward the freezing depths of the murky bottom. I'm alone, disappearing into the unforgiving sea, disappearing into a place where I'll never be found. I hit the bottom. My empty lungs are as heavy as anchors, weighing me down. It seems hopeless here, a land of no return.

Minutes, hours, or days could have passed. I won't know the difference in time—everything is meaningless down here. But suddenly, out of nowhere, my burning eyes catch the gleam of moonlight, shimmering far above me. It's an escape—a way out of this dark world. I either go to it, struggling through everything to reach the top, or stay here to die, to rot.

My mouth opens, gagging at the salty taste before pushing my heavy feet against the bottom of the ocean floor. The watery world rushes past before I break the surface, taking in a huge breath through the hair that's tangled around my face.

Because I have taken the chance, I breathe again, and I am instantly brought back to life, even though the darkness still lurks hundreds of feet below.

I shake my head, taking in a breath of salty air. My arms push against the surface of the water, treading. I glance around in the darkness, only to see Paul's head pop up a few yards away from my own. He grins over at me. "How's that for your first official cliff dive?"

"Could've been better," I start with a smirk, "If you hadn't decided to fall down with me. Although it is rather enjoyable to hear you screaming about the water like a baby whose candy has been snatched away."

Paul huffs. "I was only expressing how excited I was." He shakes his head. "It wasn't girly at all."

"Yes, I'm sure I just heard something else, like that invisible person who fell next to you," I say playfully, with a sarcastic edge in my voice. I lie onto my back, backstroking through the choppy water. "Enough of that, though. We'd better get onto shore before these waves make you piss yourself."

It seems easy again with Paul, like our friendship has been for years. Paul understands that I need a break from the others, and that I won't take his dramatics. He has taken me out here to the cliffs despite the hour, giving us time together as friends. Just friends. And I like it that way.

I reach the shore first, taking the time to stand and ring out my hair. Paul jogs in after me, shaking his head like a dog after a bath. He grins as he passes me, turning and plopping right down in the sand. I hum as I drop into the spot next to him, making a point to slide away slightly as I settle in. We sit in silence for a few minutes, brushing the water off.

"So, what'd you think of the legends?" Paul asks, ending the silence.

"Mmm." I study the water ahead. "Interesting."

Paul nods in agreement. "It's a little overrated, don't you think?

"It did look a little bloody," I reason.

"Not that," Paul says with a chuckle. "I mean how it went. If the Third Wife really did just need a distraction to save Taha Aki, couldn't she have cut her arm or something? A little slice would've done the job. Why did she have to kill herself? I mean, damn. Very dramatic for a serious, inspiring tale."

A small smile lifts on my lips. I raise a handful of sand from the ground, spreading my fingers. I watch it run through the spaces. "Rash decisions and instinct. They override better judgment."

Paul's quiet for a while. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he speaks. "You got that right." His body shifts closer to mine.

An instinct growl comes from my throat, my hand pressing down against the sand. "I'm serious," I say, because it's the only thing that can make it through my lips

Paul sighs heavily, bumping my shoulder with his own. "I love you," he mumbles.

I push my shoulder back against his, staring at the dark waves as they spill over the shore. No smile manages to form on my lips. "I'm your sister. You have to."

In the corner of my eye, I can see Paul's jaw tighten, his frustration clear in his eyes. "Not like that."

My tone sharpens, my response flying out of my mouth instantly. "You're fooling yourself, you big idiot." I try to make it sound somewhat joking, but I can't inject anything positive into my tone.

"No, I'm not." Paul rakes one hand through his hair. His dark gaze meets my own, and suddenly, I find my back pressed into the sand as he hovers over me, forcing me to press down. "Admit it. You've loved me all along. You're just too bound up in that disgusting leech to see it."

Hot breath is rough against my neck. I manage to tense up, forcing myself to think for a fraction of a second before I smack Paul, hard enough that blood runs out from the corner of his eye. I shove him off me, crushing him between my hands and the sand. Fury stirs inside me, and for a brief second, I imagine my hands pushing through his chest, breaking him beyond recognition. . .

_No._

While Paul is still blinking in shock on the ground, I spin around and shoot off toward the forest. I splutter curses at everything, from the trees to the dark sky to the soggy dirt beneath my feet. I'm the fool here. Paul, forgiving me? Paul suddenly not minding our earlier conversation? Right. I should know better by now.

I push myself faster, forcing my pulsing legs to further the distance between Paul and me. My heated senses are sharpened in the adrenaline, and I know he isn't following. Still, I have to keep pushing forward, running and running and running until I break through the trees. Without missing a beat, I lunge for the ledge on the side of the house, pulling my body up. I duck through the open window, leaving a dent behind in the frame as I push inside.

The living room is completely quiet, dark with the black of night. I go straight to the bathroom. I know I'll need to unwind—to release the flames. I can't keep them tucked inside, keeping the heat at bay of the dam I've built. Eventually, the flames will flood over and engulf me whole. I need to let them go.

My clothes fall from my body and onto the floor, sinking flat against the tile as if relieved to be free of my heat. I am simmering beneath the surface, but it doesn't matter. I have to allow the flames to smolder now that they've risen. Water on the fire won't put it out; it will only light it like gasoline, feeding it. If I cage myself in, I will fight and struggle until I win. Until I have lost all reason and no part of me remains.

I run a hot bath, hot enough that the water scalds the tips of my fingers. I'm growing numb, and the heat is nothing. I still gradually ease myself into the boiling water, inch by inch. I watch my body disappear beneath the steam, and I allow myself to melt into the water. No soap, no suds, no rinse. Just me, the steam, and my buzzing thoughts.

Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe this is stupid, and I am stupid to make a big deal out of something so small. But I know better. Paul has pressed the boundaries; pressed at the wall I've built; pressed at emotions that are slowly being locked away. He's jeopardized everything I've worked for, breaking the knots Emmett has tied. Emotion threatens to strangle me, to pull me back and suffocate the small portion of life that's been brought back. The monster will take over once again, and if it does, I don't know how many years it will take to grasp onto myself again. I don't know how long it will take for me to find another gleam of light and push back toward the surface of the water.

Paul is wrong. He's not right. Paul is a blaze struck by gasoline. I am a wildfire, untamed and unexpected, appearing out of nowhere. Emmett is the forgiving rain, washing out my bitter flames to allow new life to grow beneath the ash. Paul is a blaze, who can only feed those flames, causing them to burn brighter. Higher. Hotter.

The thoughts bounce around my head, scrambling all reason. I feel the tightly knit pieces of my control crack, breaking away from one another. I have to tuck my bent legs close to my body and drag in a long pull of steam in order to correct the path of my thoughts. Emmett, focus on him. He's real, he's here, he's. . .

My body stiffens, tense as a frozen statue as my vision clouds before disappearing completely in a wave of black.

_My father's thrashing body is pinned to the floor, rendering him helpless. I watch from the corner. A large, muscular Cold Man hovers over him, hissing. A moment later, the leech rakes his nails down my father's neck, cutting deep into pink flesh. The thrashing slows, and my father's eyelids droop, nearly covering his eyes._

_I give no reaction. I stand like stone, my gaze resting on the bloody scene before me. Breezes whistle through the cracks in the wall, but I am too numb to feel them, as if I'm not even really there at all. The sound seems to alert the creature, who grunts in response. Slowly—very slowly—the Cold Man moves away from my daddy's body, and turns his head back to me._

_Blood drips off the leech's lips as his crimson eyes connect with a hiss, the malicious creature jerks, standing erect in a flash. His expression is dark at first, but slowly, it relaxes. I study the dark curls and bulging muscles of the leech, feeling my stomach heave with realization. Dimples pop up on the creatures face as he grins. As_ Emmett _grins, he reveals his gleaming white teeth._

_I can only stare, my gaze locked on the smooth curves of his lips. Lips that are stained red with the final drops of my father's blood._

My hands fly out, grabbing the edge of the bathtub. Water sloshes out, splattering on the floor. The edge of the bathtub splits clean open beneath the pressure of my grip. I grit my teeth, unaware of the mess I am creating. My nails dig into the bathtub while my spinning head slams back into the wall, trying to smash out of memories that flood in.

_I'm back there, in the very hell that has created what I am. I stand in a familiar mud pen, my feet braced in the muck. The ground is still torn and cracked, dried with soil the color of waste. There are no sharp objects, no weapons—not even small rocks. This is an empty field, open for nothing more than physical combat. I stand in the middle, alone._

_It takes a few minutes before I hear laughing. It has to be a crazed girl, I think. It must be the one I defeated, risen again for a second round. But, as I listen closer, I realize that the laughing isn't a cackle. It's a deep boom, so loud that it shakes the earth beneath my feet._

_I recognize that laugh. I know it so well that the sound of it is ingrained in my memory. I want to turn back, to see the owner of the laugh, to face my opponent, to show I'm not an open target. But I am rooted to the spot, unable to move._

_The volume of the laughter increases as the one behind it comes nearer. I watch from the corner of my eye, at first only seeing a flash of white. Then, there is a form: tall, muscular, and absolutely beautiful. The figure stares straight at me as it steps into view, its unblinking black eyes trained on my face._

_Emmett stands before me, his hands balled into tight fists. His expression is . . . hungry. Hungry for blood, no doubt. He stalks toward me, leaning forward intently. I still can't move, even as my instincts go wild, ordering me to leave. I can only stare as Emmett closes in._

_As he reaches me, he stops. His black eyes narrow, his lips opening, revealing his sharp teeth. I can't help but stare at them, my body pulsing with heat. The laughter eases down into a chuckle, just an amused sound. I don't know that he's grinning at me. Instead of a huge, happy smile, I see a bared set of teeth challenging my next move._

_The lips move over the teeth in front of my face. My gaze remains steady as two cold objects rest on my back and pull me against a rock-hard body. I am being pulled out of my trance, my body working once more. I slide my hands up the figure's stomach, unable to match it with a name._

_It seems like the lips will meet mine. They are leaning in, moving in for a kiss. But, as they come close to my own, they freeze. In the corner of my eye, I watch as the pair of black eyes dart down, becoming aware of the hand around the throat just as its too late. Cracks burst out over the skin as my hand closes in._

_A moment later, his perfect body crumbles, pieces of him scattering across the ground before they are swept away by the wind._

My shoulders shake against the wall. My body is jerking, moved by a force beyond my control. I draw in ragged breaths as I try to pull in the last whiff of Emmett's scent. He's gone, though, as I've killed him. I feel my shoulder jerk once, knocking the nozzle to the left. Water rains down over me, surrounding me and swallowing me whole.

_Rain pours from the sky, soaking the world around me. The Seattle area buzzes with life, despite the late hour. I stand on a porch, clutching the empty bottles of alcohol I have brought. A man stands in the doorway. His thick arms are braced on either side of the frame, refusing to allow me back inside. Angry words spill from his mouth as he argues with me. I stare, trying hard to force myself to keep in mind that Leah lays, passed out, on the wheel of the running car behind me._

_Something forces me to stand there. I have been stripped of my clothing—I stand in only my underclothes, covering what must be covered. I feel so bare, so open and exposed. I should feel shame, but I am far past the point of ever feeling such emotions again. I can hear the man start to groan and growl as he runs out of words. My mouth barely opens as I speak. The man quickly shakes his head before my sentence has even finished. His lips raise as he begins to fire off another round of shouts._

_His words are lost in the ringing of my ears. I only see teeth once more. Bared teeth. I don't even think as I force the man to his knees. My other hand catches his head and twists. The man's head hangs limply in my hands. I stare straight ahead for a long moment, listening to the hum of the motor behind me._

_I gather myself quickly. My grip loosens as I pull myself in, although my body shakes with heat. For a millisecond, I look down. The world is tipping and tilting around me, but I still can make out the shape of the face in my hands. I stare at the frozen expression, feeling something break inside of me. I stare a little longer, watching red run over the curls of the man's hair, streaming out of a defined hole that my actions have driven through my now empty chest._

Even as I return back into the world, I'm not there. The anger is boiling over inside of me. I thrash, strangled whimpers spilling through my lips.  _I've killed him_.

The glass door shatters as my fists connect, bursting into dozens of sharp shards. A wave of scalding water crashes down over the floor. I hop onto my feet in an instant, swinging my fists wildly and snapping my teeth. Objects in range crack and crumble while boiling water streams around my calves. Once there isn't anything left to break, my hands meet the shower frame, closing around it before tearing it clean out. As I bring it down hard into the ground, my feet slide over the slick surface of my clothes and I fly backward, disappearing beneath the scalding water, the frame of the shower pinning me in place.

For just a moment, I incinerate. My body shakes and locks in place, and I am down. Fallen. Lost. Hopeless.

"Emily!"

The frantic shout of another being is audible even beneath the half-foot of bath water. It's not directed at me, but it tugs at my attention, reminding me to keep moving. I wind my arms around the metal beam and constrict until it breaks with a nice snap. Water boils around me as I push back up, moving onto my feet. I breathe loudly through my open mouth, pushing the soaked strings of my hair back behind my shoulders. Some part of me manages to force my hand to rise in a slow, robotic way, grabbing the door and pulling it open.

Emily stands in the hallway, dressed in a lengthy purple nightgown. Her eyes bulge as she takes in my form, and then the hot water that runs out into the hallway. She seems frozen, unable to react, even as the burning water swarms around her bare feet.

We stand there for minutes, locked in a stare. Emily finally manages to gasp. Her lips move frantically as she speaks, but I can't comprehend the words. I watch as one hand rests on my shoulder, and my body reacts for me.

I slam the body back into the wall. Emily starts to scream, but she cuts it off as she scrambles to catch herself in the inch-deep puddle of water beneath her. Sam is there, the pants of his pajamas stained with wet blotches. His eyes are bright with alarm despite the unreasonably late hour. He grabs Emily, pulling her tight to him. Emily lets out a choked sob, burying her face in Sam's chest.

Sam shakily turns his head, staring over at me. I yank a towel off of the side of the counter, holding Sam's gaze evenly. Slowly, I wrap the towel around my figure, turning off the light with a stiff hand as I step out of the bathroom.

Nobody moves. I slip past Sam, who pulls Emily away from me as I pass. My gaze is focused solely on the door at the end of the hall. In the corner of my eye, I can see the icy gleam of Nicole's hard gaze, but I don't feel it. I can't feel it, or anything else. I hold the towel tight against me as I push through the door, slamming it behind me, hard enough to rattle the whole house.

I tear open my dresser the moment I hear the knob click, forcing clothes over my body. A tag juts out beneath my chin and zippers press into my skin, but I don't notice, much less care. I am focused only on my scattered thoughts, trying to come up with some reasonable reaction that any normal person might have.

Again, the idea of leaving comes up, but I silence it quickly. My hands slow, and I lean forward against the dresser, one of my hands covering my eyes. I really am the fool here. I should know that everything that seems right in my life is too good to be true. All will burn, and all will bleed, until eventually, the weight of the world crushes me, and I finally fall into my first and only defeat.


	39. Rebellion

_"I'm bleeding out_  
 _I'm bleeding out for you_  
 _For you."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Nine

Rebellion

* * *

I stare at the clock until the red letters glow 4:00 AM.  _Don't fuck up. Don't fuck up. Don't fuck up._

My body moves without hesitation, sliding out the window, repeating a movement it has performed many times before. My feet touch the ground and I am off. My foot raises and crushes a boulder in my way, sending it toppling over itself as it tumbles through the forest. I don't bother to duck under branches. Instead, I slash them away; my fingers are sharp knives that tear them clean out of their sockets, while my arms are the propellers that push them forward. I sweep straight through the brush, not minding as it falls dead on the ground around me.

Emmett. I'm going to Emmett again, only this time, I don't feel like a sick, pathetic puppy heading back to its master. A suffocated voice inside me speaks against the feeling, working against the anger, the pressure, and even my own instinct. I threaten to burst into flames, but I hang onto thought of Emmett, and the voice quiets. I snarl softly to myself as I push forward until my feet step out onto the patted-down trail. I pause for a moment, sensing the quiver of branches further down the path. My eyes snap over toward the movement just as another figure appears on the opposite side of the trail.

Leah.

She stalks out of the shadows, pausing in the middle of the opening. The dark of the forest brings out the glint of frustration in her eyes, and her hands close into tight fists. Something has pissed her off, once again.

I don't pause. My gaze rests on her figure, piercing into the back of her neck. Her back is to me, and she holds herself stiffly. It's clear she's making a point to ignore me, as if I don't exist. I clench my teeth at her arrogance.

"Pissy, pissy. Hit your first PMS?" I ask. My voice drips with sarcasm, but it's not hostile. Just a form of a greeting that Leah actually pays attention to.

As expected, Leah reacts as she hears my voice. Her head tilts back to the sky and her knuckles pale. "No. I haven't."

Steam whistles out my nostrils. I'm still smoldering, locking away each grain of ash as I gain some level of control over myself again. Words somehow manage to spit through my lips. "Don't need any menstruation to get you going when you have Sam to fuss over."

"What business do you have being out here so late, anyway? Need to catch up with another forgotten asshole?"

Our eyes lock. She turns her head to meet mine as I close the distance. "I prefer to spend time around people who don't turn me into a raging bitch, actually."

Leah jerks her head away. She breathes heavily as she studies the forest, her expression tightening. Even though she might have a temper, mine burns hotter, causing even the wildest of flames to flinch. "You haven't really had the best choices in men. Especially now." Her voice silences for a moment. "That's what you're doing. Going to see . . .  _it_."

"Him," I correct. My own tone has taken on a layer of sharpness at her jibe. "He's a  _him_."

"Whatever." Leah rakes a hand through her short hair, sighing heavily as she does so.

Silence wedges between us, thick and heavy. It threatens to spark and burst, but neither of us bother to start anything more than a conversation from the situation. I remain in place, my dark gaze locked on Leah's expression. Her brows have pushed together, and she's biting the top of her lip. I know exactly what she is about to say even before she gets it all out.

"Listen, I know that we both—"

"Have a lot of shit, and both of us know better than to stand here arguing about imprinting, because the two of us will only have more shit to deal with if we even start." I nod once, curtly. "I know, Leah."

Leah's eyes narrow to slits. Her jaw sets, and she speaks through her teeth. "You  _think_  you know."

The sound triggers another natural instinct. The desire to knock her teeth clean out of her gums arises, but I wrestle it back. My reply is instant as I feel my gaze searing against hers. "You're very fluent in the language of bitch. I've never heard it come so effortlessly."

For a moment, the only sound around us is the faint chirp of crickets with their halfhearted tune. Then, for split second, irritation flickers across Leah's expression. But instead of spitting out a bitter reply, her lips twitch, and she nearly cracks a smile. I smirk to myself, even though it's not so much my words that triggered the smile at all. It's just the way they've been put. Or, maybe, it's just the sound of a joke out of my mouth.

I've never been much of a joker. Although the sarcastic Jordan has always been there, the joking hasn't. Leah glances over at me, and I catch a glimpse of the emotion shining in her eyes. It's not so much the fear I've always seen reflected in the gaze of another. This time, it's brighter, stronger. It's hope. Leah doesn't have to ask why I've suddenly decided to toss out a joke in a tense situation instead of tear out someone's throat. She knows, and I know, and the one who has caused the change in himself even knows. And that's enough for Leah to change her mind about me—that's enough to give her the hope to believe that maybe, just maybe, the curses in this life can blossom out into gifts that make the pain worth it.

I hold Leah's gaze for a second longer. After a single  _thump_  of my heavy heart, Leah's gaze is gone and her expression relaxes. Leah sighs under her breath, just a slow, empty sound. Her head bobs once in a nod before she composes herself and slinks back into the shadows without another word.

The instant she's gone, I turn, heading back toward the border once more. I can sense the mingling scents, stronger now as they mix with the stale scents of the Cullens. Wolves will be out soon for morning patrol, and I'll be expected to join them, no doubt. But a certain part of me is forcing me forward, forcing me toward the place where I know Emmett will be.

The treaty line is less than half a mile out, and at my pace, I'm there in minutes. It's early, but it's not as if I'll be waking him up from an early morning nap. I press forward into the Cullen lands, my pace not faltering as my senses stretch out. It's not long before they find what they're looking for.

There's a  _crunch, crunch, crunch_  of the ground in the distance. It's much louder than my careful, silent steps. I inhale slightly, and his scent hits me just as the approaching figure does. Strong arms snag my waist and spin me around. As I am set down, an all-too-familiar deep laugh echoes out into the forest. There's a flash of white, and suddenly, I feel the familiar sensation of cold lips against my own. My hands slowly close into fists.

Some part of me wants to curl my fingers in, latch my hand around his throat, and listen to him scream as he dies. Another wants to grab onto him and never let go, to allow him to have his way and continue on through the night without a pause or break. My chest tightens, as if the controversy rising up inside of me is crushing me in. It only lasts for the shortest fraction of a second, but even that is enough to make me explode.

As my breathing hitches, Emmett pulls away. For a second, his lips linger above mine, his eyes still closed as if he's holding onto the moment. I stare at his smooth, content expression, and my fist slowly loosens. Emmett cracks one golden eye open, and then the other. We both stare at one another for what seems like a century before finally, Emmett breaks out into a huge, bright, dimpled grin.

My hands go limp.

"Look what I got!" Emmett crows, seeming to sense my tension. "I caught myself a real babe!"

The playful pride in Emmett's voice is amusing. His black hair is slick against his head, plastered down by the rain, with the exception of one little piece that sticks out on the side of his head. That, along with the grin, is enough to cause a laugh to begin to rise up in my throat. I feel my lips start to part in my own smile, my eyes staying steady on Emmett's expression, my body focused on the feel of his muscular form so close to my own. But right in the moment that the laugh reaches my throat, it's choked back by the sickening, perfumey stench that can only be caused by one thing.

"Let it go, Emmett," a low voice mutters. " _Before_  it decapitates you."

Emmett's head turns back to look behind him. My gaze travels above his broad shoulder, meeting two pairs of glittering yellow eyes. Neither blinks as I stare evenly back at them.

The first pair belongs to the moody one, Jasper, who stands completely erect with his hands crossed behind his back. He stands formally, although his rigid posture gives off many different feelings. His honey hair shadows his face, adding a sort of calm darkness to his expression.

The second is Emmett's other brother. Edward's stance is just as stiff as Jasper's, although he leans forward slightly, as if he is poised to attack. There's a crease in his brow as he glares over at me, as if he actually expects to make sense of the jumble of thoughts racing through my mind.

As a few tense seconds tick by, Emmett's arms tighten around my tensed form. He pulls me into his side, keeping his arm circled around my middle as he turns us to face his brothers. He casts a half-smirk in my direction before he speaks.

"Alright, hand over that hundred. Bet's over."

A flicker of curiosity crosses through me, but I am quick to silence it. I watch as Edward's lips tighten, and he tears his gaze away from me. Jasper remains standing, although his jaw locks as Emmett speaks. His gaze remains unblinking.

"It's not over yet," he says slowly.

Emmett groans loudly. I am close enough to feel the sound vibrating from his chest, and something about it sparks another flurry of incoherent thoughts. I still don't move, although my arms decide to slide around Emmett's waist on their own.

"Really, man? C'mon! I'm in one whole piece. I snuck up on her and everything!"

The questionable argument should make me ask questions, but no words come from my lips. Instead, I feel my arms burn against Emmett's flat waist as Jasper glowers at him. The fury in his eyes is unmasked, burning against the dark color of the night. Everything about me knows that glare. It's the stare of a predator—the stare of a killer right before he attacks.

In a split second, my arm constricts around Emmett's body, yanking him back. I slide in place in front of him, leaning forward, my hands braced in front of me. My stare burns into Jasper's, and I can feel my muscles twitching as the wolf stretches.

Jasper's eyes narrow into slits. I want to pound those eyes right back through his skull, tearing straight through his body and reducing him to nothing. His scent is piercing my nostrils, churning in the pit of my stomach. I feel my lip start to curl as Jasper smirks, focusing on me.

My feet crush through the dirt as I push off. I have no plan, but I am a hunter. Hunters don't need to think; they just kill. I know I will kill this threat—I will kill this being before he can even lay a hand on—

Emmett's hands find my waist again. The air whooshes around me, the world spinning backwards, as if I'm being pulled back in time. Only, I'm not. I'm just being crushed back against Emmett's firm chest. Jasper's eyes narrow further, and suddenly, I am washed with calm.

Before I choose to react, a breath of cold whispers through my hair and into my ear. "Feisty. I like that. But I know, and you know too, that we can't start this right now. I'll let you beat me up; you can have all of me, anytime you want. But not him. His fight isn't worth it. I'd think you'd rather tear up my clothes, anyway."

Emmett's joking tone should make me smile, only this time, it doesn't. My mind rejects the words, locking out any sort of distraction. The two long, cold arms around me aren't limbs, they're restraints. Mere obstacles that pin me flat to Emmett's strong chest. He can be overturned and beaten out. Beaten dead and gone forever so easily. This obstacle is different than others, though. I barely take any notice to most, but this one isn't hot. It isn't blazing like the heat of the wolf inside me. This obstacle is . . . cold. Cold enough to hush my fire. I stare a little longer, until eventually, my muscles start to lock in on their own and I melt back into Emmett's chest.

Edward clears his throat, running one hand through his bronze hair, his gaze flickering between his brothers. "We'll . . . go."

I can still feel Emmett's head bent to my ear, and I can nearly sense his eyes as they lift away from me and onto his brothers. There's a sort of understanding that passes through them, one that I can't make any sense of. I watch Edward fly past Emmett, disappearing into the brush. Jasper remains in place for a moment longer before he follows, disappearing in a blur of white. I make sure to flash my teeth as he flies by, keeping them bared until only his scent remains.

Once he's gone, Emmett begins to chuckle. I lean my head back, twisting it to see his expression. His grin has appeared again, the childish gleam of amusement returning to his features.

"Damn, you make things fun!"

I exhale slowly, forcing all of the flames to rush out of my mouth in a single blow. "So that's what you call it now?"

"Hell yeah! It's a ton better than hunting with them when they're so depressed. Especially for the nocturnal. It's only fun when the lights go out." His hands brush up my sides for emphasis.

"Mmm." I can hear his words now as the roar of the fire dies down. But even though I can hear him, my mind has still scattered, making it hard to even comprehend the simplest of words. I inhale slowly, pulling in Emmett's scent, letting the flavor of it remind me just why I need to pull myself together.

As I fall into silence, Emmett peeks around my shoulder to look at my face, unwilling to separate our bodies long enough to turn me to face him. He rests his head on my shoulder as he looks at me, a smile still on his lips. His eyes stare into mine for a long moment before he speaks. I hear a hum of Paul's words in my ear, a faint memory of what he said. Deep inside me, I know he's wrong. I know this is right—that only this cold can dull the raging flames of my pain. As he stares, I feel the anger start to leak into my expression.

"Something's up," he states.

I take a minute to gather myself enough to respond. One eyebrow rises. "Oh?"

Emmett's brow furrows. "Yeah, I can see it. Your eyes, they kinda. . ." He spreads his hands over my body, pulling them away in opposite directions. "Go away."

"Right. That," I say with a slight smile. "It's just a little misunderstanding with the pack."

"Misunderstanding?"

There's concern in his voice, something I've never heard before. It makes me want to smile a little more, but I resist the urge. "Yes, misunderstanding. Some more disapproval." I let out a slow breath, surprised at how easily the words are coming from my mouth.

Emmett hums low in his throat. His hands continue to travel up and down my sides absentmindedly, although they slow slightly, as if he's thinking about something else. "About that."

My other eyebrow rises. I rip my gaze away from his, letting them skim the forest. What about it? I want to ask. There are a lot of things he might say. A lot of things I probably shouldn't hear. I don't know what it is just yet, but something inside me hurts at the thought of what he could say.

Emmett isn't bothered by my silence. He isn't able to read the smooth expression on my face, but I can tell he has some sense of what's going through my head. A smirk twists on his lips.

"I want you to myself, Jordan," Emmett murmurs, his voice just a cool breath against my skin. "And I want them to know it. That you're mine."

It could be worse.

I release another slow breath. My gaze turns back into his, and I smile slightly at the mischievous look in his eyes. "Are you going to try to kidnap me? 'Cause I sure as hell won't fit in a sack."

"Not yet," Emmett says with a quiet laugh. I'm not sure why he keeps his voice low, but it probably has something to do with the rising temperature in the air. "It's deathly important."

"Is it now?" I ask in a whisper.

Emmett nods once, pressing his lips to the side of my jaw for the briefest moment. "I would say so."

I can only stare steadily, my thoughts racing.  _Him. Me. Want. Who? Emmett. Why? His. Mine. Breathe. In. Emmett, why? Out._ I force out a breath.

_Focus._

Suddenly, the air rushes around me, and I find my hands placed against Emmett's chest. He's smiling again, and his eyes have some sort of twinkle in them that instantly brings a smile to my face. I feel my thoughts fall away, and suddenly, it's as if it's just the two of us. Emmett, me, and nothing else.

Emmett's hands trail down my back, and I find my own hands running slowly through his hair in response. A low purr rumbles in his throat. Our bodies press against each other, gravitating by a force neither of us can control. At first, there's that burst of adrenaline, and for a millisecond, a need to kill the enemy. But our bodies only move closer, and as they do, that adrenaline lights up, and there's a spark of emotion that sends my veins pumping in reverse. A shock strikes my body, and my lips part.

_I love you, Emmett Cullen._

I'm so sure of it now. What has been an empty, floating question is now a solid part of me, a solid truth settled deep in the empty chambers of my heart. It's emotion, something raw and foreign after years and years of feeling nothing other than bottled anger. I want to force the words from my mind and through my open lips, but everything is happening so quickly. Before I can even think to speak, Emmett's mouth takes my own.

It's a short kiss, but it's a kiss, and any kiss is something special. It's just enough to set the embers alive again, the heat that's hovering over us with every touch. Emmett pulls away slightly, his head still bent toward mine. My hands remain in his hair, my breathing coming slowly. I study Emmett's expression, puzzled, as he reaches back in his pocket as he speaks softly to me.

"Jordan, I know this is fast, but please, you have to at least realize that I—"

Out of nowhere, the powerful call begins. At first it's just one voice, ringing out over the trees. But soon, another joins it, and then another, and the three cry out together. The volume grows with each passing second, as if their impatience is painful.

Emmett growls once, the sound low. I stare back at him, and he doesn't move, even as the howls continue. For a moment, I am torn, staring up at the handsome face of this man who completes me, listening to the order of my pack. But I can only be torn for a second before the wolf inside makes the decision.

"Shit," I mutter. I feel my nails pierce through my palm, and shakes spread out over my body. I need to close the wolf off before it takes control. I need to stop; I need to allow Emmett to have what he wants. The desire is strong, but the wolf in me has always been stronger, and instinct moves my feet for me, against my own will.

But both of us aren't victim to the call. One of us doesn't have to bend under the undeniable wish of the alpha.

Emmett shoots forward and catches me. He pulls me into his hold again, stopping me in place. I stare up at him blankly, unable to form anything, from a thought to a word to a feeling. Emmett doesn't need any of that, though. Emmett understands it, as if he's already bound to me, enough to feel everything.

Our lips meet again, working together with a sort of desperation. I am numb. I can feel the two leashes of my loyalties around my neck, both closing in as they block off my airways. The wolf in me is all but dragging me by the ankles, but Emmett's arms hold me in place, fighting against the pull. I need to turn around and go, but everything else is making me stay. Even instinct is overpowering, its voice hissing in my ear.

_"Weak. You are weak if you retreat. Don't back down. Don't show weakness."_

I fight hard for some level of control, but I have lost it all. I am in a different world, in a different body, somewhere else. The numbness spreads over me, engulfing me. There is no fire, just the feel of Emmett's mouth and arms and the closing of my airways as I gag on my own decision. In the distance, the howls continue to cry out, but I stay there, my lips moving with the lips of the enemy. The betrayal of the simple act crushes me, and my lungs slowly empty.

My heart starts to flutter, its strong, steady beat skipping. Emmett grabs my hand, his lips becoming rougher against mine. The leash that ties me to him must be around his neck as well, as if it is strangling him at the same time, making him stay with me. Emmett's fingers move over mine before he finally pulls away.

We stand there for a second, both of us breathing heavily, with Emmett seeming to choke on the air he doesn't need. My body heals, as it always does, although my heart still stings. My vision wavers, my head starting to spin from the lack of air. Through it all, I can still see the golden glimmer of Emmett's eyes darting down toward my hand. There's a splash of white, as if he is grinning. The air hums as if he is speaking, but I hear nothing other than the whisper of leaves as he disappears.

I stay there for a moment longer, imagining the feel of his arms around me again, holding me together. But the howls are still there, and the leash tightens once more. I am quick to set back into pace, marching back through the forest like a solider out to duty. With every step, my lungs refill a little more and the numbness is a little less obvious. But, at the same time, the ache in my heart becomes more and more real.

The howls don't stop, even as I press forward into the woods. My strides lengthen, all but sprinting now. I let the hot breath puff out as I run, attempting to pull myself together before my mind joins with the pack.

With each stride, my arms swing forward. I think nothing of it; it's just a normal running form. But after a few paces, I start to notice the glint of color as I go. I frown, my eyes darting down toward my hand. My heart nearly stops.

There, placed on my finger, is a sparkling diamond, sitting on none other than a ring. My eyes flash again, and my body locks up, although my legs keep moving. Emmett's voice thunders in my ears.  _"I want you to myself, Jordan."_

I'm engaged?

Another stampede of thoughts threatens to break loose in my head. I shake my head sharply, growling once as I rocket forward again. Normally, there's a much bigger deal made out of this. But what the hell? I can't ever expect any of this to be normal. And a tricky charmer is just my type. Emmett makes things fun. He makes my fire run cold.

Emmett makes things hard, but I've never asked for easy. Everything, everyone is against this. It's wrong. It's wrong to find peace, hope, and real emotion with the enemy. It's wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But then again, everything about me is so damn wrong. But Emmett, he makes me  _right_ , in some strange way. He is closing my wounds and opening the strangled parts of me. Emmett is the one thing I have that isn't wrong.

It must take a monster to kill another monster, like the one that has grown inside of me and killed what used to be Jordan Uley.

Why the hell should I say no? Emmett has promised to fix me, in time. I don't know why, but for some fucked up reason, I believe him. Or at least, some suffocated part of me has the smallest sliver of hope. Although I know better than to let him get to close, I can't—I won't—deny him of anything that will make him grin at me like he does with those damned dimples of his.

I know I can't let Emmett go. He's something real, something right, and something worth the risk. Becoming a person again isn't going to be easy—it's going to be hell, and I'm ready for that. My ancestors haven't always lived solely to kill off leeches—they have lived to preserve humanity. That's what I have to do. I  _have_  to find the remains of my own humanity before the monster finds its release and I lose myself all over again.

With another large breath, I force my thoughts to cut off. My body closes in on itself, giving into the wolf. I head back to the river, to the place where I still belong, crushed under the order of the alpha and suffocated by the being trapped inside of me—by the monster stripping away at the control I've managed to find, bit by fucking bit.


	40. Beautiful, Bloody Angel

_"You really got me bad_  
Now I'm gonna get you back  
I'm gonna get you back." - Maroon 5.

* * *

Chapter Forty

Beautiful, Bloody Angel

* * *

*East Coast, USA*

Beer. The house stinks of beer. Beer, and a rotting stench that could only come from years of sloppy carelessness. It was a rundown place, with heavy summer breezes hissing through muddy, cracked windows, dirt matting the thick carpet, and a broken radio belching out sound in the background. It was the lowest place anybody could find themselves in.

Which is exactly why Rosalie Hale has found herself there.

She knows where she is: at the lowest of low, the deepest of deep, the worst of the worst. It is completely sickening for her—for someone so perfect to be placed somewhere so filthy. But anywhere is better than the empty forest, especially when Rosalie has a task to perform.

Rosalie glares into the broken mirror. She stands motionless in the cramped bathroom, holding her breath to avoid inhaling the gut-wrenching stench of human waste. Her eyes are set on the mirror as she focuses on the smooth, hard face staring back at her.  _Beautiful,_  she thinks. _You are beautiful_. With her long, golden hair loosely falling in waves down her back, her black eyes so dark, so piercing, she knows she must look like an angel. She has convinced herself she still is an angel, despite her sins.

"You . . . you still there, aren't ya, you . . . you sweetheart?"

The drunken voice of the man just outside the door makes Rosalie sick. Her lips peel back over her teeth in pure disgust. She believes that she is doing the world a favor with her actions. She knows that she still is doing right. Angels don't have faults.

Despite the churn of her frozen stomach, Rosalie manages to compose herself. She stands straight and tall, nodding to the spitting image of herself reflected in the mirror. Her hand closes gently around the door as she exits the bathroom with as much elegance as one can have in such a mess. It is a challenge for her to find a place to put her feet with all the junk cluttered on the floor, but she does, step by step.

A bed appears to have been shoved into the center of the room, turned at an angle in order to make room for the piles of junk. On it rests a man, one who can't be a day over twenty-five. He is on his back, resting lazily against a chipped, rotting headboard. His hair falls down to his chin in shaggy strands, and stubble lines his dirty face. He cracks a yellowed grin as Rosalie approaches, his shining eyes tracing the sway of her hips.

"Ah, yeah, that outta do it. You gonna be—"

"Enough of that," Rosalie snaps. Her jaw locks as she stops at the foot of the bed, her eyes trained on the man. "Do not speak to me."

"Oooh, yeah," the man taunts with an obnoxious laugh. "Gonna make it nice and . . . and good."

The last of Rosalie's breath rushes out of her nostrils in a whistle. She is filled with a desire to cause this man pain—to punish him for his disrespect. Still, Rosalie holds herself together as she watches the man. He snickers at her silence and leans forward, reaching out to grab her.

Rosalie allows this, even though it would be too easy to snap his bones and end him then and there. She is pushed down roughly, without the slightest bit of care. The scent of the man's arousal stings her nostrils, already so strong and heavy in the air. Rosalie lays motionless as the man presses hot kisses to her neck, his rough hands tugging at her clothing, stripping off the remains of the thin fabric. The man moves over her, taking complete control.

Or so he thinks.

For the briefest moment, Rosalie's eyes close. She allows herself to feel the man's presence, allowing him to become something meaningful to her. This man  _wants_  her. He wants Rosalie because she is  _desirable_. She is, in her eyes, most likely one of the most desirable women a man could have, and any man is lucky to have her. She knows this. She knows that Emmett is missing out; that Emmett has made a rash decision. Emmett has made a mistake.

The mere thought of _his_  name causes Rosalie to bare her teeth. _Emmett_. Emmett doesn't want her. Emmett no longer has interest in her—he isn't there to confirm that she really is the most beautiful woman. No, he has given her up for something much below her. Emmett has made it seem as if her beauty is meaningless—as if Rosalie is  _un_ desirable.

Anger swells inside of Rosalie, rushing through her silent veins. The man gives a grunt as her hands press too hard against his back, and there's a crack. The sound brings Rosalie back into the present. Her dark eyes snap open, seeing the face of the man above her. She can feel the warm body so close to her own, too close, and she can hear the steady thrum of a heart beating inside his body. The anger strengthens as Rosalie hears the sound of the heartbeat—as she hears a sound that  _she_  should feel and hear. A sound that means life and no pain in this damned immortal world.

Suddenly, Rosalie can't take it anymore. Her eyes zero in on the exposed throat above her, focusing on the small spot of flesh where the frantic, skipping pulse beats the loudest. The man groans again, and Rosalie removes her hands from the man's back, only to place them on his head. With a rough jerk, the man's mouth pops open and his body goes limp. Rosalie stares at the lifeless figure above her, hesitating for just a moment, before her razor-sharp teeth slice through the hot skin, straight down into a steady flow of blood. The taste is heaven on her tongue, like a sweet bit of sugar after a lifetime of consuming bread.

No longer can Rosalie say she has never tasted human blood. This isn't the first time, or even the second. As the weeks passed, Rosalie found pleasure in similar situations all across the states. She travels under the clouds, selecting the men who will be easily missed. Although she won't admit that it's just for a reassuring sense of feeling desirable, it is why she's doing this. She does the world a favor, cleansing it of those who deserve to be taken out. Whether it's a filthy disgrace such as the man she now holds, or a man whose presence remind her of Royce, Rosalie never fails with her catches. She always gets her way. Always.

Each mouthful of blood is down Rosalie's throat in a millisecond as she greedily empties the man's veins. Her hands clench tightly around his head as his heart slows. She doesn't hear the breaking of his skull. More. She wants—she needs— _more_. But, much too soon, the man's body is dry, and he lies dead in Rosalie's arms.

Rosalie deposits the body on the floor without a second glance. He is nothing more than trash to her, belonging in the mass of junk. Rosalie rubs her lips together, savoring the fine taste of the blood before she spins on her heel and heads for the door. Just as she's about to slip out, her eyes catch a glint of color. Black. Rosalie glances over at a pair of another women's sunglasses. They're in perfect condition, and probably could come in handy. Without a pause, Rosalie's fingers snatch up the sunglasses, and with that, she breezes out the door.

Once outside, Rosalie breathes in small, polite breaths of air, dragging them in through slightly parted lips. The salty scent of the ocean adds a sharp tang, but anything is better than the rotting of the house. Besides, Rosalie has to try to forget about the returning ache in her throat. She will be around humans soon, and she must collect herself. She must think.

Rosalie has learned a lot in her absence. As she fled, she found herself in Seattle. There, she came across a group of raging newborns, fighting over a kill. All it took was the sight of the newborns, and Rosalie pieced together the mystery her family has been trying to solve long before she left. They have failed to realize that she has found out the answers. The Cullens still have yet to even consider contacting Rosalie. If only they thought of her. Without her, they are in for a nasty surprise. But it's their own fault—if they wanted her help, they would have found her. If they don't want to find her, they don't deserve to be informed of what's coming.

Despite the looming threat, Rosalie knows what's coming won't be fatal. The newborns may be lethal predators, but they won't cause destruction to Rosalie's family. Even if they may nearly be deserving of death.

In Rosalie's opinion, her family only needs something to bring them back to their senses. Her family has failed to show that they disapprove of the mutt. They have failed to remember that the mutt is the enemy. Rosalie should be sensing that they are coming for her, that they are trying to take her back with open arms. Only, they aren't. Her family is shallow to truly believe that Emmett is happy.

The dog is selfish, not to mention clueless. The mutt doesn't know what  _pain_  is, and Rosalie is positive that she can't comprehend what it means to hurt, to struggle. The mutt is so blind, so brainless that she has chosen to take everything away from her—she has taken away the one thing that might make her immortal hell somewhat bearable. As if the mutt expects to make Emmett happy. No  _dog_  can ever be as beautiful as Rosalie Hale. Her God-awful scent surely will be enough to repulse Emmett once he does wake up to reality.

If he does.

Rosalie is certain that she could have killed the mutt when given the opportunity. But, why take out one of those filthy beasts, when Rosalie can eliminate them all? Rosalie is glad she hasn't taken care of the mutt herself, because now, she has a better plan. A much more effective plan.

Much more deadly.

Because Rosalie has a plan, she won't be stopping short for anything. The pack of mangy tribal saints will pay. They will finally learn the true meaning of pain, and Rosalie will get her revenge.

Diving into ocean would be a faster way to go, rather than the machines built by the likes of careless, sloppy human hands. But, to carry out her plan, Rosalie must remain proper and in tip-top shape. She mustn't show that she has fallen down from her throne and lost her crown.

So, with a final intake of air, Rosalie slides the sunglasses over her crimson eyes, tilts her chin up, and stalks toward the scents of human civilization without a backward glance. After all, she is Rosalie Hale. Not even the almighty rulers of her secret world will be able to resist her. Rosalie Hale will always get what she wants. It's not a question.


	41. Crash and Burn

_"Timber, timber_  
 _We're falling down_  
 _Let the forest hear our sound."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Forty One

Crash and Burn

* * *

*Jordan*

_Ugh. I'm boooooooooored. So bored, I might, like . . . chase my tail. Or chew a bone. Do wolves chase their tails? Hmm. Boy, it would probably look stupid to chew a bone. But running is so boring, ugh!_

_God, will Collin ever shut up?_

_Hey! I can hear you!_

_So? Wha'cha gonna do about it? Bite my—ow! Dude!_

_You don't have any reason to freak out on me, Brady. You asked for it!_

Morning patrol isn't much to brag about. It still seems like a punishment, only this time, Sam is suffering the joys of the new wolves with me. Kind of.

Even though he tries to hide it, I catch the mistrust set deep in his mind. When he looks at me, his muscles tense, and there's a sort of anxiety that ripples through him. Now, as we all jog through the forest, he wears the scent of fear. Fear that if I'm out here alone, there will be destruction. Fear that I will cause trouble. Fear that I  _am_  trouble.

But for now, above that fear is a layer of irritation. Sam's paws scrape the ground with every step, and a low rumble of annoyance rises from his chest. He picks up his pace, distancing himself from the bickering wolves, although he says nothing to stop their bickering. Some part of him thinks that there's nothing he really can do. After all, Collin and Brady are the only two who will jump at the chance for a six o'clock patrol.

I, on the other hand, won't put up with it so easily. I push straight through the pine, heading for the two gangly wolves on the other side. I've been running parallel to them, and they're completely unaware of my presence. My dark eyes narrow, because even though my white fur is like a bright burst of neon against the late summer colors, the patrol continues on without a glance in my direction. The pine needles stab into my fur, and I growl under my breath at them as I lunge.

My body slides between the two clueless wolves. I throw my weight left, then right, knocking them both down. They both give a sharp yelp of surprise, and Sam grunts at the sudden change of thoughts, but I barely hear it. The two bodies on the ground nearly blend in, but my eyes don't have a problem picking out the shapes of their bodies against the forest floor, and my paws find their throats.

The bodies writhe in pain, but I hold them down, even as they jerk and arch up. My head lowers, my muzzle placed at a point just in between their large heads. The whites of their eyes are visible as their gazes bulge, but my paws continue to crush their airways, slowly suffocating the life out of them. Even the wolves' minds are scrambling, unable to produce anything but soundless panic.

 _Let's say that for some disgusting, senseless reason, I'm a leech._ I begin. The pressure of the weight beneath my paws is just as heavy as the taunting in my tone.

 _Jordan,_  Sam warns. His voice has a sharp edge to it that barely penetrates into my mind. It's nothing to me anymore.

 _Let's say I'm a leech, and you just happen to be my prey. I've got you down, and you're about to have your throats sucked dry. Why? Mmm, it probably has something to do with the fact that instead of focusing, you're bickering like a pair of children._  My paws angle forward, and I feel my claws tear at warm flesh.  _If you learn how to shut the hell up and focus, you'll catch the leech before it catches you._

 _If not?_  I slash my paws down toward the ground, splitting a thin line of flesh in the wolves' throats, forcing my paws to slam back into the dirt.  _You might as well dig your graves before even considering that. Understood?_

Both the wolves' heads nod quickly. I snarl at them, flashing my teeth. Brady slowly rises onto shaking legs, but Collin remains on the ground, frozen with shock. I huff once at him, watching him flinch. Lesson learned.

_That was not an appropriate way to handle that situation, Jordan._

My gaze connects to one higher than my own. I curl my lip back at the irritation in Sam's eyes as he gazes down at me, his ears pressed flat to his head. Disapproval practically pulses from him as he glares.

 _Sometimes, it takes a little bit of a wake up to get the point across, Sam. And you weren't going to do it_. I bow, lowering my head while keeping my eyes steady on Sam's.  _Consider it a favor, Alpha Almighty. No charge._

Sam's mind channels into the fright that's plagued Collin and Brady's minds. He shakes his head once.  _What do you think you're doing, Jordan?_

Suddenly, Emmett's face is displayed in the front of my mind. I see the firm line of his jaw, the smooth white of his skin, the deep, dark hue of his short hair, and the burn of his golden eyes. Even his dimples are visible, although the image is focused in on his eyes, and the light that thrives within them.

The image twists and spins. Now, it's of the two of us, with my eyes opened just a crack to watch our lips meet, to feel that spark and watch it happen. I feel a surge of emotion charging through every inch of my body, and I feel the circle of the ring settled on my finger.

I release a breath and all of it disappears, and my thoughts are focused on the forest once more. I see my dark, angry gaze mirrored in Sam's.  _He happened. And I'm damn proud of him, it, whatever you want to call him. Oh, you disapprove? That's a bummer, considering he's apparently going to be my husband soon._ I snort once and snap my teeth, swinging my head from side to side as I turn away. _Love you too, Sam._

The shock is static in the air, but I don't pay any mind to it. My body rockets off, thundering back beneath the pines and out toward the river. The storm of thoughts is a language I can't even understand. I block it all out, my senses focusing on only one thing.

Air is weight in my lungs, but I press forward. The river sloshes around me, threatening to suck me down into its merciless current, but I move through it and up to the bank. The forest is foreign and strange, but I still jog through the grounds, straight up to the porch of the Cullen house.

My stomach lurches at the reek of leeches, but underneath them all is a scent that instantly causes all my muscles to relax, to remind my why I'm here. Emmett. I'm here for Emmett. I repeat the words to myself as I clear the steps and close my fingers around the doorknob. I stare at it for a long moment, watching the tips of my fingers quiver.

_Emmett._

I wait a minute, allowing the shakes to ease before I twist the knob. As I open the door, I am immediately overcome by the sense that something is different. Something is wrong. I breathe in slowly, and as I slide through the doorway, I freeze, and my heart constricts.

*Emmett*

I amble into the house, taking my own sweet time. After all, us immortals have all of eternity. The only time we have to rush is when there's a good night for a hunt, or when there's a nice deer prancing about, waiting to be made into a meal.

Not only that, but when a hot, amazing woman is about to show up at your doorstep . . . a little hustle is great there, too.

Our family has taken numerous hunting trips just like this. The problem in Seattle is really getting to Esme, and she's starting to worry. I say we go there now, find out exactly what's going on, and have a little action along the way. But of course, nobody else agrees. If they might be coming near here anyway, why wait? I've been up around Seattle twice: once to take Jordan out to the bar, and a second time to get her a ring. There have been little hints and traces of newborns, maybe even a couple of them around. Even that isn't enough to make Carlisle and Esme get things going.

I shake my head as I open the door, stepping inside again. My thoughts are drifting over to her again. Jordan. It's so different with her, like I have a choice. I have the choice to reject her, and I have the choice to make her go. But I don't want to. I can't resist. And I doubt she can, either. I know I have an effect on her, but what can I say? I'm Emmett. It just happens.

A chuckle passes through my lips as I laugh at my own thoughts. I think of the way she slowly starts to smile, as if it's been ages since she has. I can see it in her eyes. I can see that a ghost of something is haunting her, making her shut down. But hey, I can fix that. I am sure that I can fix her, at least make her better. I don't want her to slip away again, and in order to stop it, I'm going to make her mine. She's going to be like a best friend. With a ton of benefits on the side, of course.

I continue to slowly walk through the house. I'm at ease now, and nearly patient, although I can't ignore the impatience that's still there. She is coming. It's like a sixth sense. My Jordan sense. I smirk for a moment, wondering what she'd have to say about that, or maybe she has an Emmett sense as well.

Too indulged in my self-amused thoughts, I don't pay any mind to the unfamiliar scent that drifts into my nostrils. But I do pause as my peripheral vision catches a glimpse of something. A grin spreads across my face as I stop, leaning around the wall to look at the door.

"Jordan?"

Nothing.

I take a step forward, my eyes scanning the room. "C'mon, you don't gotta hide from me, babe," I say with a smirk.

There's a shuffle of movement. I know someone is there. Instinct tells me this without having to see anything. I take another step, raising my eyebrows. "Jordan?"

My eyes snap over to another sudden movement. I stare for a long moment, until finally, a figure moves out from behind the staircase. She's nothing threatening: a short body with a long wave of brown hair. I study her features, and instantly pick out the familiar crimson of her irises. There's only one period of time that I have ever seen eyes that red.

I'm not sure if it's so ironic, it's amusing that one of them is here, or if it's so random, it's suspicious. I don't take the time to mull it over as curiosity gets the better of me. My head tilts and my mouth moves quickly as I speak.

"I think you're a little lost," I say.

The woman doesn't answer. Her wide gaze is locked on me, and she stands stiffly as she stares. I fold my arms to my chest, leaning back against the wall. This seems like it might take a while.

"Don't speak English? I'm not too sharp on anything else," I tell her with a chuckle. "I bet you're looking for Carlisle Cullen, right?"

The woman's red eyes dart around before landing on me. She is restless, as if she is extremely uncomfortable with having to stand so still, but she can't do anything else. I find it strange that she still doesn't seem nervous, as if invading another's territory is completely normal. Despite the rising questions, I remain silent, waiting for the woman to answer.

It takes a few minutes, but she finally caves and speaks despite her unease, her bell-like voice flowing smoothly. "I came in search of one of you with yellow eyes," she murmurs. "One of you about whom we have been warned. I knew I should have alerted the creator, but you were out in daytime, and you weren't burning. And so I followed."

As the woman speaks, her eyes roam over my form. I pay no mind to this—I'm far too used to being sized up as a threat. I quirk an eyebrow, listening to her words carefully. They fill me with a sense of suspicion. She has come from somewhere, and the only possibility has to be Seattle. This woman must know something.

I nod. "Well, I have yet to burn after decades in the sun. That's complete bullshit," I glance down at my sleeved arms, checking to make sure it's true before I meet her stare again. "But there's nothing special here. What else do you want?"

"Hmm." The woman glides forward, her movements so fluid, it's almost as if her feet barely touch the ground. She doesn't respond to me, but her eyes remain locked on mine, piercing deep through me. It's like she can see straight through my soul as she stares, and I don't like it.

Ignoring the tiny alarms in my head, I continue to watch the woman approach. Hunting must not be enough. I raise my voice slightly this time, letting the deep sound project. "You came from Seattle. What do you know?"

The woman's gaze connects with mine again, and for a moment, I swear I see a flicker of unmistakable russet skin. But, as I blink, I can only see the slight swing of the woman's pale arm as she steps even closer. My eyes slant with suspicion. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, Emmett," she murmurs.

Now that's creepy. My brows shoot up, and I feel my biceps flex, preparing for some sort of a quarrel. The woman's crimson irises are filling me with an eerie sensation, similar to the one I get when Edward pries into my head. Once again, I shake it off, focusing more on the unnecessary lack of distance between us.

"So you know my name too, huh?"

"I know a lot about you."

I start to speak, but my words are cut off. Again, the woman disappears for the briefest instant. This time, I can fully see Jordan. Her skin, her body, and the dark yet sexy expression permanently etched onto her face. I pull in a quick breath, tasting the sharp bite of her sweet scent. And then it is gone again, and the woman's hands are reaching for my chest.

"Whoa." I gently push them back. "A little close there."

The woman ignores my push and shoves against my hands. I brace them there, holding her back. The woman doesn't even seem to mind my rejection. She bats her long lashes up at me, flashing a white smile. I want to chuckle at how ridiculous the woman looks, but the pressure of her pushing is only increasing, and her scent is causing my head to swim. I give one heave, forcing the woman back against the couch. My narrowed eyes find her gaze again, and I instantly regret my action.

Dark blue. They aren't the red I've been seeing, they're dark blue. I feel those eyes shoot deep into mine, and I am flooded with guilt. I've rejected her.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, because it's hard to think of much else to say as my head starts to spin. My arms are jelly, and the sense of limitless strength I normally feel is gone, replaced by a crushing pressure. I stare back into the eyes of her—of Jordan—as she straightens up and advances on me again, not seeming to be the slightest bit bothered. She smiles at me as she nears, showing her bright white teeth.

Instinct screams at me to force her away again, but I have been taught and trained through the decades to reject most of it. I grin at Jordan as she comes closer to me, and my eyes watch the sway of her hips. My hands meet her body, and my arms go around her waist as she comes closer. Those dark blue eyes stare up at me, and I think my dead heart starts to beat again. That is, until she giggles.

The sound causes me to pause. It's so strange to hear a giggle coming from Jordan's mouth. It's like hearing a toddler speak with the deep voice of a man. Jordan seems to sense my pause, though, and she slides her hands up my chest. The feeling doesn't bring the same spark I've always felt, but I can see her here in front of me, and I don't want to make her stop. My head leans down toward her. Slow, easy.

Our moment is quickly interrupted. There's a stream of dull light as the door swings open before colliding with the wall. The force sends a shudder through the house. My head snaps up, and my eyes narrow. A hiss spits out from a mouth that's not my own. I want to growl at the someone, or maybe something, that has found a way to interrupt us again, but I swallow it back as I stare at the woman in the door, unable to tear my eyes away.

I'm seeing double.

*Jordan*

Constricts is a bit of an understatement. In the time it takes for the hand of a clock to tick, my heart bleeds, bursts, and breaks. Despite the crippling pain that crashes through me, I am instantly in action without hesitating.

I am powered by the strength of the wolf. There is no need to think. The she-leech turns toward me, her wild eyes locking in on me. I bare my teeth at her, lunging straight for her. The leech underestimates the action, her red eyes narrowing as she throws herself forward. I plant my foot against the floor as she does, stopping short and ducking to the side. The leech extends her hands, clenching at empty air. She gives a wild shriek as the realization hits her.

And I strike. I bring her down hard, slamming her flat against the ground. My foot presses into her back. I hold her there for a moment, smirking at her useless thrashes, before my hand grabs her shoulder and twists. There's a crunch, a snap, and a pop before it breaks loose. I lift up the limb slowly, barely hearing the screeches of pain. My fingers ghost over the arm, burning against the cold skin. I pause for just a moment before I spin the arm through my fingers and drive it down hard into the back of the leech's exposed neck.

The power flowing through me is nearly too much. My body trembles with it, but I don't stop. I press the arm down and grind it into the leech's neck, watching the cracks spread. She thrashes beneath me uselessly. I take my time, slowly cracking off bit by bit of the leech's neck. I am sure I'll kill her slowly, sure she'll die painfully, but I haven't paid attention to the audience behind me until he makes himself known.

As the final piece of the leech's neck breaks and pops, Emmett comes forward. He moves swiftly, just a flash and a blur. There's a huge boom. I blink, and find myself staring down at crushed pieces of what once was the vampire's head. They lay scattered across the floor. In the middle of the pile is Emmett's cold fist, the knuckles pressed into the dents they've created in the floor. My eyes follow the scattering of the pieces before lifting, only to be met by a bright, topaz stare.

Emmett smiles slightly as I look up at him, as if there's nothing to worry about. It's not convincing me, though. I stare back at him, listening to the quiet sound of our breathing. I am completely still, even as Emmett moves closer, and his lips brush my own. I remain still, rooted on the spot, as he slowly reaches out, sliding his fingers through my own. His foot kicks the lifeless, broken body aside as he attempts to pull me into him.

I can feel him drawing me close, but I don't move. My fingers are limp against his, but my body is a live wire. Each and every muscle is locked in place. Set to fight.

"Jordan," Emmett whispers.

His voice is a sudden sound, and it pulls me a little further into reality. I can feel Emmett's eyes on mine as he waits for me to speak. Minutes pass, and his fingers loosen around mine, although he keeps his hold on my hand.

"Jordan, it isn't what you think."

One shoulder relaxes, but the other stays tight. I inhale slowly, pulling in Emmett's scent. I open my mouth, slowly allowing my mind to form words. "Then what is it? Having another woman all over you, innocently?"

"No, no, I didn't . . . I'm not like that. I was seeing your face, hearing you, and I wasn't gonna resist  _you,"_ Emmett says quickly. His hand grips mine a little tighter.

No matter how much I want to speak, I can't. Some part of me is urging my lips to move, to voice my understanding, but the anger that is ground in me has already started to take control. All other emotion has been programmed out, but the anger—the source of the monster—is still there. I breathe it, I taste it, I feel it, I am it. Soon, I will be the wolf, and I can't stop it.

Emmett's eyes search mine, a hopeful gleam bright and clear in them. "Jordan?"

I have to tear my gaze away from his before I'm persuaded to stay. My feet crunch over tiny pieces of leech. I hear no sound, as if I am submerged underwater, but I can feel my body moving as I force myself to leave. I must leave—I must space myself from Emmett before the wolf takes me.

Right as I reach the door, a cold hand catches my wrist my wrist. I am turned gently and forced to face him. Forced to stare at his guilty eyes. Forced to inhale his sweet scent and know that he has only told the truth, and there is no reason to be spacing myself. My wolf isn't going to be giving me a choice, though.

"Wait . . . please, just . . . stay," Emmett pleads. His voice his strained again, as if he can feel the same breaking sensation in his own chest.

I hurt. Hurt for Emmett, hurt because I know I am the reason for the hurt. All I can do is nod, because I'm unable to speak as the shakes start to set in. Instinct is overriding my common sense, and the wolf is stretching. I feel myself shaking, so hard it hurts, but Emmett's hand still holds mine. He is innocent. He doesn't understand why I'm leaving, but I have forgotten how to speak. I can't explain to Emmett, and I can't let him know that I understand. All I can do is leave, even though my body aches. All I can do is leave before the wolf does even more damage.

Emmett drops my hand, moving to wrap his arms around my burning, shaking body. That is my chance. I know I only have half a second to act, and I don't waste any of it. The instant his fingers brush over my skin, I throw my body forward, lurching away from him. My heart seems to tear, but I don't stop. My shoulders hunch, and a familiar heat whispers through my body. I crash straight through the door, continuing down the stairs until I meet the ground, landing on paws instead of feet.

"No! Jordan, wait!"

I force myself to continue forward, but I can still see him in the corner of my eye. Emmett pushes through the mass of crumpled wall, shoving away the broken material. He shouts my name, and when he finds nothing, his eyes turn to the forest. I'm already too deep in the shadows for him to see me, although for a moment, I swear his eyes find mine. He pauses for a moment, just a moment, before turning his head to the ground. Emmett curses loudly, spitting venom on the ground as he raises his arm to his mouth and scrubs frantically.

I need to go back to him, but I can't. My paws move against my will, and my heart hammers in my ears. He doesn't know what I'm doing. I don't even completely understand what I'm doing, but I do know that there are only a few seconds of time to gather myself before the wolf takes over. I have to do this. There is no choice.

Sucking in a deep breath, I rocket forward, charging into the shadows as the countdown begins.

_3..._

Everyone's been waiting for this. For the break in the strange, happy story. But hell, there's no way I'll give anybody the satisfaction of seeing it all crumble down over something like this. I can feel myself crashing, but I catch myself, forcing my legs to hold me up. Some bit of me wants to sink down into that dark nothing, but I've come too far to allow myself to be dragged down to the depths. I huff at the thought and push my legs faster, channeling my thoughts on the feeling of my body together, in one piece.

_2..._

Trees whip past with every stride, air raking through every inch of my skin. Each breath is heaved, a ragged intake of air. My hands have become weapons, deadly claws that are ready to make the change into a killer.

_1..._

I am not the wolf. She is apart of me, but she is not who I am. Jordan Uley. I have to hang onto the piece of her inside, even though my body is quaking and falling to pieces. The final flares shoot off inside my body, and I let out a final breath as I collapse into another form.

_0._

I combust on the spot. A stranger's scream bursts through my lips, angry and strangled. My body rips apart in a matter of a few violent seconds, inside and out. My vision blurs as it is washed red. The wolf takes over, and the scream morphs into howl with a ferocity that comes from deep inside the pits of fury boiling inside. The sound pierces the still night before being drowned out by a long stream of snarls.

My legs pull me forward in a dead sprint. I run, snapping and snarling and spitting. Running just to run out the heat. Running just to let it all out.

Thoughts bombard my mind in a senseless, swirling mass. I picture the expression on the lifeless leech's face a million times over, as if I'm trying to convince myself that she's dead. Dead, gone, slaughtered, non-existent. She's dead due to her own mistake. Her mistake, not Emmett's.

My thoughts are on high volume as I fly through the dark forest. It's better to project them than the looming pain that stretches in the darkest corners of my mind. Even now, as I slam down the cap on my control, bottling the monster in, there's barely any reasoning. The monster only has a desire for disaster and death.

She wants to kill. Not the monster, but the wolf that lives inside of me. The wolf whose pure white fur is a lie. She is not pure, clean, or soft. She is a killer, carrying the fury and instinct of a monster and the mind of one who has long since lost herself. I am her now, as we share a body. I can feel my wolf's body tensing and heating up, preparing to kill, and I know I must escape. I have let her out along with my anger, but I have to pull it all back in, before it becomes too much.

There isn't any time to think. I draw everything in at once, feeling my body fall back into its human form. I land on my knees, and I have to plant my shaking hands on the ground to keep myself from falling over. My mouth is open, and I breathe loudly as if I am still an animal. The world spins at a dizzying pace as I try to calm the storm raging in my mind.

I have crashed, and I have burned, but this time, it's different. It's different in the sense that I still know who I am. Jordan Uley. I have a name, I have a reason. The light sensation of the ring that rubs against my finger is keeping me here. It's keeping me as Jordan, because Jordan has found something to hang on to. Jordan, she can hang onto Emmett, and she can combine her rebellious determination with Emmett's strengthening smiles, and she can fight the monster. Emmett, he is real. He is real, and Jordan is real, but the monster is not. The monster is only the anger.

_What the hell are you doing? Get your ass up and go back to him._

I want to break free of the control, to listen to that suffocated voice as it grows louder and stronger each day. I still have to battle the monster, as it is restless. I am tainted by the crushing emotions inside me, the emotions that are pumping through my veins, causing my heart to gallop and my blood to blaze. I am still on my hands and knees, pressed against the sodden ground as the drizzle continues from above.

The struggle drags on, second by second, minute by minute. My vision is static, flickering on and off, but I swear that I can see something coming toward me. Rain drips over my eyes as I raise my head, wheezing out another breath as I watch.

Shapes. I can make out undefined shapes. They waver, probably due to the shaking of my body, but I know that they are the shapes of bodies. Very toned, very tan bodies. I can only see the torsos, ripped muscle and naked skin. I should know exactly who the shapes are, but my mind is playing games with me again, and the memory dances out of reach.

"Jordan. . ."

Jordan. My name. I don't know where the sound comes from, and I can't distinguish the voice either, but that is  _my_  name. I suck in another trembling breath, allowing the damp air to fill my lungs. I grasp the thought, squeezing it tight. That's my name. I know this, and I know I have to reply. I force my lips open, feeling the world tilt as I start to slip again. I shake my head sharply, forcing my voice to form the only word I'm able to speak.

"Emmett," I breathe.

My skull fractures with the strain. The avalanche of anger only grows, even as every part of me stands against it. I can feel this, and I throw myself forward in a sudden attempt at escape, but I only meet empty air.

"Jordan."

I am full of adrenaline. Even as the struggle saps my strength, my attempts only become stronger. I push myself up into a crouch, and nearly manage to get on my feet, but my body gives in under the weight of the pressure and I fall again. The shapes still waver in front of me, and I think my veins are full of fire. The ground is solid yet slick beneath my knees. I steady myself before slashing a hand through the empty air. I need to feel him, feel the cold that can extinguish the rising hell.

But he isn't here.

A puff of rage breaks loose from the jar that I have bottled it in. It's just a sliver, a small injection, but it's just enough to rock my body. My body curls in on itself, as if it's trying to hang on to the feeling of being human, but there is no choice. I feel my head jerk back and my eyes roll as my form twists and changes once more.

I am able to stand now. The wolf gives me a replenished supply of strength, and I use it to feed my struggle. My thoughts slow as my wheezing turns to panting, slowing and calming. The world rights itself again, and I can hear my own voice in my head.

_Jordan Uley. I am Jordan Uley._

As I calm, I remember that I'm not alone. The shapes are still there, but only for an instant. The aftershock caused by my phasing ripples out, and the shapes all drop down, one by one, until three pairs of paws stand before my own. I watch as a small drip of blood slides in between the space of ones toes. After that, I am blinded by the wave of others' minds that all push into my own.

_A wolf stalks forward, his teeth bared. He's standing behind a figure, a man, tall and white. There's a pause, and then the wolf lunges, sinking his teeth into the figure's throat. His head pulls back, and he looks down on Emmett's face, frozen and lifeless._

I snarl out as the thought hits me, and I throw my weight around to stop it. My vision clears, and I stare down the grey wolf, ignoring the two behind him. The wolf's ears press flat as I turn on him, his dark eyes meeting mine.

 _You can't trust a leech, Jordan!_  Paul's voice roars.  _I told you! I told you not to!_

_Enough of the shit, Paul. Go to hell._

The grey wolf shifts his weight as he glares at me. His shoulders twitch. Paul's mind reflects an image of my wolf—white and tall and dangerous, but then it all disappears, and he whips the memory of Emmett and the she-leech back at me, replaying it all in fast-forward.

 _Damn you!_  I launch myself forward, and the grey wolf mirrors the action, but our bodies never collide. Sam and Jacob, both flanking Paul, move forward. Sam silently takes the impact of my lunge right against his shoulder, while Jacob rams his head into my side, forcing me back before I really do cause damage. I land hard on my paws, tearing through the ground below as I stare up at the black and russet wolf.

Each mind buzzes with thoughts, but none are ever completed. Everything is still, until Paul shoves Sam and Jacob away from him, shaking his head with a huff. Jacob glances at him, and then at me, his eyes narrowed as he reads my empty thoughts. I can feel the stack of insults building in his mind, preparing to fling toward me, and taste the hostility in his mind.

Sam catches this too, and he sighs deeply as he steps forward. He appears to be wary again, as he glances over at me before each step, eventually picking up his pace and heading back toward the forest. His head hangs with disappointment, but he doesn't voice it.

 _Paul, Jacob. Let's go. We still have a patrol to finish._ There's a brief pause.  _You too, Jordan. I'd better get you home._

I stand still, watching Jacob raise his russet head again before taking off after Sam. Paul hesitates for a moment, mentally grumbling to himself, but reluctantly follows as well. I stay for a few moments longer, allowing them to distance themselves from me before I set off at a steady jog. I know I'm leaving Emmett behind only to give him space. Not a guilt trip, just space to forget. The distance between us is a little farther with every step, and as my heart pounds in a strange, broken rhythm, I know I've left a part of me with him.


	42. Hear Me

_"Don't - drive her away, no_  
 _Don't - love isn't built in a day, no_  
 _Don't - let it grow stronger_  
 _Feed in the hunger."_  - 10 CC.

* * *

Chapter Forty Two

Hear Me

* * *

The sun peeks through the clouds this morning. It's a rare sight, but I barely see it. The grey wall of clouds stretch over the sky, and a breath of frost lay over the ground. The treetops glisten with rain, sparkling as they catch the rays of light. It's useless, though. Soon, the sun will disappear, and the rains will beat away at any memory of the slight touch of sun.

It's already happened to me. I sit in a world of ice. This ice is nothing like gentle chill of Emmett's body so close to mine. No, this is a raw _cold_ , so empty and blank and white. It fills my lungs with every intake of air, gnawing through every inch of me, straight down to the marrow of my bones. As it eats away at what I am, my body numbs, and I become nothing once more.

I shouldn't be reacting like this. The nasty little bitch is dead. I know she's dead—she died in my hands. But that doesn't matter, because the mere thought of another's hands on Emmett's body makes me erupt. Rage, pure and utter anger, has been bottled up inside of me for so long, and now it is flowing free, spilling out over the bottle and romping through my veins. Even as I burn alive, the imprint still tugs at the center of my very being, all but dragging me back to him. I'm strong, through. Strong enough to push it aside and tell it no. If I go back now, there's going to be more blood on my hands. I have to calm down first; I  _have_  to protect Emmett from the anger. The monster will send waves upon waves of anger back at me, trying to drown me in it, to get me to kill. The monster only wants to kill Emmett. But Jordan Uley, she doesn't. Jordan Uley, she has fallen. I have to recover her before this anger strengthens the monster and I lose myself again.

My expression has frozen in a wordless mask, giving away no sign of the conflicting feelings racing through my mind. It's not from the emptiness inside, or even the nagging voice of pointless anger. It's from the slow sink of my mind as it shuts off, unable to make any sense of the emotions inside of me.

Space. It's a misleading sort of thing. Space means separation, normally. But this isn't normal. This kind of space means safety. Safety for Emmett. He has to be safe from the monster, especially now, as the structure of my control threatens to collapse. It's as if my control is two bricks, recently built up and leaning on one another for support, and what has happened is a shake in the ground.

I exhale slowly, breathing out a stinging breath. In my peripheral vision, I can see the half-empty bottle of alcohol taunting me, sitting alone on the dusty counter. I am numb as I try to reason with myself, but my mind rejects all emotion and replaces it with another bout of crippling fury. The whir of my thoughts speeds, and I am riddled with nausea. My fingers curl, slowly, one by one. I stare straight ahead, feeling my eyes twitch as they struggle to catch a glimpse of the alcohol. The world quakes as my gaze flickers over.

I'm on my feet. I duck into the bathroom without a second thought. The burn in my throat saturates my skin. I only have to so much as lean over the toilet before all of my guts seem to come right out my mouth, washing out down into the sides of the bowl.

Even after it's over, my body still heaves. I am sick with the struggle rage inside of me. I clamp my hands down on the seat, dragging in a deep breath. It tastes of acid. I growl once, and my head spins at the sound. The monster's voice whispers in my ear. I growl once more, slamming my fist hard into my own jaw in a sudden attempt to quiet the taunting. A bone crunches and pain bursts through my mouth, but the voice still doesn't quiet. I grit my chattering teeth as I struggle to reason against it, squeezing my eyes shut.

_You don't need Emmett._

Better him than alcohol.

_You're fine on your own._

That explains the breakdowns, murders, and all this damn pain.

_You've lived without him before. You can do that now._

Call that a life?

_This is just another sign that you two aren't meant to be._

This is a test to see how far everything can go before it snaps.

_He has made a mistake that has ended everything between you._

A leech has tried to touch what is mine, and she has paid her fee.

_Emmett doesn't even want anything to do with a wolf._

He doesn't. But, he does want something to do with me.

I shake my head sharply and hop away from the mess. I chant nonsense to myself as I breathe in the sour stench in the room. It takes me a few minutes, but eventually, the screech of voices in my head fades away into spinning silence. Releasing a slow breath, my eyes snap open. I can feel the sense of control filling me and I know I've managed to strangle the monster back down. For now, at least.

My stomach is churning. I breathe in slightly and nearly gag. Without a pause, I decide to duck back out of the room. Even as I pass through the door, my feet don't stop. They continue forward, leading me out the hall and down the stairs until I am standing in the doorway to the kitchen. I brush my hand over the side of the wall as I stop in the doorway. I don't know why I've come down here, but instinct has pulled me here for some reason. My fingers twitch as I study the scene before me.

The heavy scent of grease hangs in the air. Crumbs of bacon and egg are scattered across the wooden floor. My nostrils flare, and I catch the stale musk of wolves. They've been here, earlier. But they aren't here now.

Someone clears his throat. I raise my head, meeting the bright gaze of Sam's imprint. Emily. I hadn't heard her down here over the roar of my own thoughts, but she must have been down here the whole time. A broom is clutched in one hand as if she has come in to clean up the mess. She smiles slightly, not seeming to have noticed I was here, either. The smile causes the scarred side of her face to drag down slightly, and I try not to stare. My eyes study the broom instead, evaluating the amount of threat it might pose. I decide that there's not much chance that Emily will beat me to death with it, so I lower myself over the sink, flicking on the water. I swallow down mouthfuls of the tap water.

In the corner of my eye I watch as Emily shuffles in place. Her dark gaze shifts around the room before it settles on me again. She opens her mouth hesitantly, speaking slowly. "Hello, Jordan."

I swish the water around in my mouth. It's icy, but not enough to cool me off. I spit out a bit and stand straight, moving my gaze to look down to her. "Yeah, that's my name. Because I'm a person, kinda, and I have one."

Emily's expression twists for a moment. She braces a hand against the countertop, casting her gaze down. "I . . . I'm really sorry. I don't mean to make it seem like you're not a part of—"

"Family." I drag the back of my hand over my mouth, nodding. "My family's dead. They've been dead for almost two decades."

"No," Emily insists. "No, we are your family."

She is stubborn; I'll give her that. My eyes slant as I study her. So innocent, so persistent. That won't work on me, though. My parents are dead, and that's that. There's no need to put sugar on the sour memory—nothing can sweeten its bitter flavor. I clench my jaw as Emily starts to reach her hand out to rest on my shoulder.

My hand flies out and snatches hers, clamping around it in an iron grip. In that moment, there isn't enough reason for me to realize why the action is wrong. Emily's eyes widen as she stares at our hands. She looks like prey, frozen on the spot and filled with fear. My fingers are constricting her hand, stopping the blood and straining the bones.

Heat bubbles out again, awakening the wolf inside. She is amused as she starts to take over me. I can hear her barking out a laugh, almost as if the sound is coming from my own mouth. My vision goes static. I can hear the faint sound of someone's voice, but there isn't much else. The wolf's laughing grows louder. It echoes in my ears and through my head, pushing out at the edges of my skull. The pressure continues down my neck and into my shoulders and chest. Pushing. Pushing and shoving out at my skin, trying to escape. I have to open my fingers and close them around something solid to regain myself again.

I suck in air, pulling it down my dry throat and into my burnt lungs. The laughing continues, growing quieter and quieter until finally, it stops completely. My eyes blink clear, and I stare down at the shape of my large hands closed around the faucet. I breathe for what could have been seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours before I turn my gaze back on Emily.

She stares, horrified, like a doe trapped in the headlights. Her expression speaks of pure terror, but beneath that, there's sympathy. I have always hated sympathy. I don't deserve it, and I sure as hell don't want it. But Emily still has it, in the words of her expression and in her stance. She stands close to me, only having taken a step or two back, and her copper hands are halfway outstretched to me, offering but not quite reaching.

My tongue cannot shape words. My lips remain sealed shut. I heave a breath once or twice, but I don't make any other movement. Emily is locked in place, and I don't think she can move, even if she wants to. I hold her gaze evenly, watching through narrowed eyes. I think I might start to say something, but the sound is cut off by the audible swish of the door being thrown open.

I twist around at the sound, moving to put my back to the wall and rest my hands on the counter. Emily quickly drops her hands and clears her throat just moments before Quil comes stumbling into the room. He holds a bundle of giggles in his arms.

Quil wears a large, bright grin. He's completely ecstatic, bright and bursting with energy. He laughs with the small girl in his arms, setting her down by his bare, muddy feet. The girl smiles up at him, clapping her hands before she turns around to face the other two people in the room. Her chocolate eyes meet mine, and she studies my face for a moment. The innocence in them is untouched, bright and alive in her gaze alone. I can tell by her scent where she's come from, but it doesn't make any sense why she's here. The girl smiles at me, completely unbothered by my suspicious glare. She looks over at Quil before looking back over at Emily. There's a moment of silence as she peers up at her before she breaks into another fit of giggles, and she hurries over to Emily on wobbly legs, her braids flopping over her back.

"Unt Emwy!" she squeals.

Emily laughs in return. She crouches down and lifts the nearly hysterical girl into her arms before smoothing her hair back. "Why hello, Claire," she answers lightly. "Have fun with Quil?"

The girl—Claire—nods her head. "Oh, yef! Lots of gween!"

"Is that so?" Emily smiles again. Her gaze grazes over me, settling on Quil. "Must have been a lot of fun for you to be running so late."

Quil chuckles. "Sorry we're late, Em. She was  _begging_ me to take her to the beach."

"It work too!" Claire adds on.

"Fun, fun." Emily smiles down at Claire before she looks up at Quil again, seeming to avoid making eye contact with me. "Well, don't keep Sam waiting too long. They were headed toward that little clearing, he said."

"Gotcha." Quil nods to Emily and gives Claire another grin. "Be right back, kiddo."

Claire's eyes widen. She looks away from Emily, gluing her gaze onto Quil. Her bottom lip pushes out. "No!" she cries. "Qwil stay! He stay with us, Unt Emwy!"

As I watch, I feel jagged pieces of me—of Jordan—piercing the side of my ribs. It's like a tiny piece of bone that's slicing straight through me from the inside, searching escape. My eyes flicker from the tiny hands of the young girl, to the boy who still wears a grin even though his pained expression shows how much it kills him to leave. He can't leave her, even for a little while.

I let out a sound, somewhere in between animal and human. I know it's not natural, and I know it's only my body's way of warning me. My teeth grind at the points and I duck back around. I nearly break off the knob as I move outside. I'm hit by a blast of biting, humid air. I pull in the clean scents of the forest as I head out. Even the claw of the thick brush isn't felt as it tugs away at the surface of my skin.

My arms are stiff to my side as I go. I stare straight ahead, my bare feet brushing the ground as I go. I barely leave a single print in the mud, and I am careful to keep my body swerving and twisting to avoid brushing against any of the shrubs. I don't want to leave any bit of me here in the world—I want to make myself less and less real.

Quil is following me. I hear the crunch and snap of the leaves and twigs beneath his feet, and I can nearly feel the pulse of heat from his body even though he is trailing behind. The nearly inaudible swish of quickly moving air suggests that he's pumping his arms as if he's actually trying to catch up with me.

Just moments later, Quil falls in step beside me. He is much more careless, marching through the forest without a single thought of where his feet are being placed or how his arm leaves a strong scent on every tree it rubs against. I don't glance over at him, but now that he's in my line of view, I study him.

Young. He's still young. Rain is trapped in his small curls and the smooth, gentle skin on his hands shows signs of little labor. The two dark eyes are bright, even though his lips are curved down. He isn't upset, but he isn't exactly happy either. He is content.

Quil is one of those wolves that goes absolutely off the wall after phasing. Of course, the first few minutes are always a shock, but Quil likes it. He likes what he's doing, only because he's blind to the curse of the wolf. As if the blindness isn't enough of a set back, he's now doomed to the control of imprinting. There is no turning back.

I've never heard of it happening, but I don't need words to know exactly what has happened. Just the way his face lights up, and the way the young girl extends her hands out to him once taken away, is enough. It's something that has to be cringed at. Another strange will of fate itself matching two in such odd circumstances. But even that doesn't matter. Both of them are so happy, so blind to the downside, that not even time itself will be able to tear them apart.

We continue on like this in silence. The green of the forest passes by without any significance. The scents are fresh and new, but I have already memorized them all. Our feet follow the lead of the trail, winding around trees and boulders and the occasional rotting carcass, until finally, we find the pack gathered in a slab of open land.

They've formed a loose circle. There's space between each wolf, and most lean their weight to one foot with their large hands jammed into their pockets, their eyes lazily traveling over the forest. Impatience rises off them like smoke out of a chimney.

"What's up?" Quil asks while jogging over to stand between Jacob and Embry.

"Just a meeting, bro," Embry replies quietly. He clears his throat and winces, as if he really doesn't want to draw attention to himself by speaking. His eyes drop to the ground and he shuffles to the side without another word, making room for his friend.

The pack follows, making room for one new addition to the circle, even though there are two of us that have just arrived. I hook my thumbs through the loop of my shorts and lift a brow. The movement earns a few glances but nothing else.

I wait another moment before exhaling sharply and moving forward toward the circle without invitation. The pack is grouped off, even in the circle, with Sam at the head, and Jared and Nicole at his shoulders. Paul stands next to Jared, and Jacob has planted himself a few feet away with Embry and Quil both nearby. The newer wolves all stand in a straight line, while Seth and Leah lean away from the restless Collin and Brady. I slip into place in the space between the newbies and Leah, not bothering to check their expressions for any signs of emotion.

I am tensed and burning, stiff as a board. A very tall, very stiff board. On fire. But I suck it up for the time being and hold myself with confidence as Sam beings to speak.

"We're here because of a threat," he beings. His eyes meet the gaze of every wolf in the circle, demanding the attention of each and every individual. His voice is loud with authority, but beneath it is an indirect sort of shake. I ignore it as Sam continues without so much as a small breath.

"A threat that we can all feel. A threat that is not yet among us, but is coming. We can feel it in us—we can feel that there is something out there that we are meant to take care of. Be it the Cold Woman we have been after, or a new threat, we have to be ready."

Sam nods once as he finishes. The pack remains silent as Sam finishes, as if expecting more. A breeze ruffles the leaves high in the trees. Birds squawk and scuffle away from them in the far distance. A whole minute passes before anyone speaks.

"We don't even know what this is, Sam," Jacob points out.

I glance over at him as he speaks. His hair is longer than it should be, falling down by his ears. It's clear he hasn't slept much, and he's slouching slightly. Even though Jacob looks like he's at the brink of exhaustion, he stands with his shoulders squared and his hands bunched up in his pockets. I can see them shaking, even through the thick fabric of his clothing.

"Doesn't matter," Jared says lowly. "There are too many leeches around as it is."

"How 'bout them Cullens?" Brady grumbles while kicking his foot into the dirt. "They stink the place up too much."

Take out the Cullens. What has been my ultimate goal now sounds like betrayal.  _Traitor, traitor._  I'll be nothing more than a traitor if I even consider this. I focus my gaze on Sam as he takes in the words, and for a moment, I swear I see consideration crossing his features.

"We can't hurt them, Sam," I say. My voice sounds strange, and at first I think it's just because of the thrum of my pulse in my ears. But as I search the circle, I watch Jacob's mouth move as well, forming the same words that have just left my lips.

Our gazes connect as Jacob realizes this too. His jaw pops out, and the shakes travel up his muscled arms. The maturity in his face shouldn't take me by surprise—all the other boys have transformed into the bodies of men just as quickly as they've made the shift from human to shape shifter. But it does anyway, as I still see the boyish gleam somewhere in his dark, frustrated eyes, hidden below all the crushing emotions inside him. He must see something too, because after a long moment, his head nods once, and he looks back over at Sam expectantly.

"Well?"

"It's not worth it, Jake," Paul barks. I notice how his chest heaves with every breath, and how he glares pointedly at Jacob. "They don't deserve a third chance."

"What the hell do you suggest we do, Paul?" Jacob's tone is short and clipped as he meets Paul's glare. "Solve our problems with a fight to the death?"

Paul shakes his head sharply. "It's not worth letting them stick around just to make our lives miserable. It's not worth having all the humans in danger either. Besides, if we go to war, maybe Bella will finally consider you."

Now Jacob's chest is heaving too, puffing out each angry breath at an impossible rate. His knuckles are pale and the veins on his neck are popping out as he steps forward. It's clear just by the look in his eyes that he's about to really snap, but none of the pack moves to stop it. There's only a deep, unsettling silence and a sense of indecision, and the sound of the two men's heavy breathing.

Even Sam is silent. He shakes his head slowly, watching Jacob begin his advance. For a long moment, it seems like he's not planning on doing anything, but then he sighs and breaks the circle to move forward and stand between Paul and Jacob. Paul gives a frustrated grunt and leans away, but Jacob doesn't stop. He pauses for a moment and stares at Sam; stares down at him. I can't see Sam's expression, but I can only imagine. Another eternity of silence stretches on before it's broken.

"We'll just have to keep our guard up," Sam says slowly. He takes a hesitant step backward. "Until we can be sure of . . . whatever this is. Double patrols, extra focus, no slacking or setbacks. Fair enough?"

Each head nods curtly.

"Good," Sam sighs in relief. He turns his head back toward Jacob. "That means we'll be going with what we had planned. You know what to do."

Jacob remains locked in place. He studies Sam before finally nodding. He raises one hand and waves it in the air, twisting around to jog toward the forest. In nearly the same second, Paul, Embry and Quil step out of place and head after him. Embry and Quil are silent for once as Paul trudges behind them, and the four disappear without another word. The pack doesn't seem bothered by this, other than Seth, who frowns after the group with a longing look on his face.

"What's next, boss?"

Sam rubs his head, turning to face Jared. "Patrol. We need patrols. Take out Seth, Leah, Collin." Sam's eyes skim over the remaining wolves, passing right over me before settling on another. "And Nicole, you and Brady should be able to run through the route again after they're finished."

The constricted flame inside of me stirs. I narrow my eyes as I stare at Sam evenly, waiting for him to turn to me and assign me my own work. Only, he doesn't. Instead, he shoots a look my way. I can nearly read the words 'morning patrol' in his eyes as he holds my gaze. He then turns away again without a single word, the muscles in his back stiff and set.

I have no choice but to stand there as the pack splits up. The guys push and shove at each other jokingly as they spread out to drop their clothes in the privacy of the forest and fall into their other forms. Leah seems more reluctant, slowly stepping across the squishy ground. She pauses at the edge, and I feel her eyes dart over to the back of my head. There's a moment where I can feel her staring, and then she is gone, leaving only a slight stir of dirt and grass behind her.

Once the clearing has emptied, I listen to the sounds of footsteps fading off into the distantly, waiting for all of them to head out before I turn to head into the forest, going deeper into it and away from the house. My jaw is set tightly, and I hold it there before heading out through the forest. I've lived in these forests as a child, and I know them like the back of my hand. My feet move over the ground without a sound. I focus straight ahead, only turning my gaze once to glimpse my reflection in the murky surface of a puddle.

I look as if I'm walking through hell. It's fitting, I suppose. My cheap shirt hangs in tatters over my form, and my shorts cling loosely to my hips, limp strings falling off the edges. Stains of mud and blood cover me, skin, clothes and all. I look like a villager who has lost their last box to live in. Gone is the seductive woman. In the mess of things, she's been replaced with the ugly, broken something, not someone. My eyes glint as the monster peers through them, hovering just behind the walls of my skull. The monster might outwardly still be there, in my rough, grimy appearance. But on the inside, it has gotten a grip, hanging onto the jittery feeling caused by just the thought of one person.

Emmett's scent lingers in my nostrils as I go. He's not near, but he's out there somewhere, and that's enough for me. I nearly smile to myself, knowing for sure that he feels the same way. It's then, in one ferocious moment, that I feel a tiny bit of myself break free of the monster's grasp, roaring back to life. In that same moment, I shed the layer of ice, and I smile, a real smile, just because I have enough reason to.

The weight of the world might drag me down, but I won't let gravity get the better of me. Even if I'm ordered to kill, I won't give in just for a moment of peace. The monster might have a tight grip on me, but Jordan Uley is still there. And now, I'm starting to find her in the feeling of newly born love Jordan Uley holds for Emmett.

I am finding hope. I, the 'lost cause,' 'bitch,' 'mindless freak,' and the 'insane. heartless killer' am finding  _hope_. How the hell can I not smile at that?

*Meanwhile*

_Do da do da do, do da do da do, do da do. . ._

_About done?_

_Nah, I'm just getting started!_

_You call that warming up?_

_Like you could do better._

_Wanna go, man?_

_Maybe after a nap or two so I can sleep off the effect of your lame, not-very-threatening challenges._

_Hilarious, really. Ten points for you._

_You know you love it._

The large grey wolf pads through the forest, his shoulders rolling and his ears pricked. He is focused; he is ready for a challenge. There is nothing more exciting than the pure power of the wolf's body that he runs in. Except that moment when his stride crosses over the boundary and into the forbidden land. He is a live wire—buzzing, hot, and ready to go.

But, the others haven't realized what they're doing. They're nearly as clueless as the two bickering pups. Sure, they might be out for a mission without action. But, they are still on the enemy land. Anything can change at any time.

A feeling of smugness flourishes up through the wolf. He's going to get out toward one of the main sources of all the current problems on the rez, and he will have a chance to end it. Sam has allowed him to head out and perform the duty without anyone to force him to back down. No Sam breathing down his neck, and no Jordan struggling to not tear it out. Just him and the 'sucker, one on one. The challenge still is a thrill, even though the leech doesn't stand a chance. He's already dead.

Suddenly, a burst of images interrupts Paul's quiet plans. The face of a girl, pale with wide dark eyes and a thick mess of hair. Bella. Her figure is reflected through the eye of a wolf—a big, russet one—as she gapes, open-mouthed and all, in utter shock. A rain of anxiety and anger pours down around the image, washing away Paul's thoughts and drowning out his focus.

_Ooo, Jakey-Poo is fantasizing again._

Paul growls once at the jibing tone, but it is ignored. The chocolate wolf trots forward, speeding ahead of Paul. He attempts to speed by the russet wolf, but there isn't a chance. With a snap of teeth and a sudden lunge, the russet wolf takes the lead once more before falling back into his easy lope.

 _Oh, so that's what Bella Swan is calling her pet now? Precious,_  darling  _Jakey-Poo._  A spotted wolf slips past Paul. He hurries to catch up with the other wolves, running shoulder-to-shoulder with the chocolate wolf.

_Guys, I've already told you twice. That's enough._

The two smaller wolves turn their heads to look at each other before staring back at the russet wolf. They toss their heads back as they bark rough laughs. Neither of them take the irritation in Jacob's mental tone seriously.

 _But Jacob! All she wanted was a phone call_! Quil's voice whines.

 _And please, don't hang up on me! Again!_  Embry adds on.

_Oh, but if you do, only leave one voicemail. And don't worry, I don't mind if you don't rehearse!_

The snickering wolves ram their shoulders together. Jacob shakes his head again and picks up the pace, starting to slowly increase the distance between him and the others. Paul huffs as he extends his stride to keep up, until he is all but stepping on Embry and Quil's heels.

Neither wolf notices the other behind them. They continue to bump shoulders, snickering at their own jokes as they do. Paul's eyes narrow as he runs, feeling his claws brush the fur on their heels. His teeth bare slightly, and his irritation wells up in his mind. Just as he's about to project it outwards, Quil ducks away from Embry's shove, causing Embry to lose his balance and crash down on his side.

Paul snarls out as the wolf blocks his path. Instinct works faster, forcing his legs to spring up and launch him over the body of the wolf. He lands down hard and skids in the mud before finally stopping himself. The moment he's balanced again, he spins around and snarls directly at Embry, who has already managed to stand up and shake the mud from his coat.

 _Watch where you're going, damn it!_ Paul flashes his teeth for emphasis, his eyes darting between the two wolves as his temper burns within him.

Embry lowers his head, shrinking away from Paul's fury.  _Sorry, I really didn't mean it._

 _Yeah?_ Paul slinks forward, growling deep in his chest.  _Sorry doesn't mean anything._

 _Hey, c'mon now._ Quil shuffles over the ground nervously.  _He said he didn't mean it._

Embry takes an uncertain step backwards. He hesitantly tears his gaze away from the advancing wolf and shakes his head at Quil.  _It's just not worth it. Paul's got a bark and a bite._

 _Oh, shut up, Embry_. Quil heaves a sigh and looks behind Paul.  _Now Jake's pissed too_.

 _Big whoop. Enough distractions_ — _the sooner this is done with, the better_. Paul growls at the wolves again, shaking his head as he jogs up after Jacob.

It takes a few seconds of sprinting for Paul to catch up. He keeps space between himself and the russet wolf, noticing how his lip has raised. Quil and Embry bound back into place shortly after, and the patrol continues forward without another word. Each mind is focused on the forest. Paul's eyes skim over the unfamiliar area. It's exactly the same, yet so different. Paul swallows a large breath, tasting the scents of the warm life on the ground below and the clear rain in the sky above. It is almost the same as it is at home. Almost, but not entirely, because here the air is tainted with an unmistakable stench.

Paul gags as the scent of vampire enters his lungs. It chokes him, constricting his throat and causing his stomach to roll. Impulse urges him to attack, but the idea is quickly put down by a growl from Jacob. He continues forward, his eyes watering and burning as he goes.

_How the hell did Jord put up with this?_

Quil coughs beside Paul, shaking his head wildly as if to rid the scent from his nostrils.  _I dunno. Her sniffer's gotta be broken._

Paul wolf-smirks at the comment.  _Funny._ He breathes out sharply through stinging nostrils.  _Too bad mine isn't._

 _We'll be needing it_. Jacob mutters.  _We're out here to get a scent._

 _And Sam couldn't have done this himself?_ Paul shakes his head.  _Damn lazy lately. Lets the rest of us suffer while he sits back._

_If we don't, it might get out to the rez._

Jacob huffs at Embry's thought.  _Look. If there's gonna be another threat, we gotta take it out before it can do any damage. Especially while Bella's so vulnerable._

 _There's no hope, man._ Quil turns his head to glance up at Jacob.  _She's surrounded by a whole clan of them. It's a miracle her neck's still even there._

 _But it won't be much longer._ Paul grumbles.

 _She won't let it happen._ Jacob insists.  _She . . . we have to get this over with._

Jacob's paws churn through the dirt, spitting up mud at the wolves behind him. He rockets forward, forcing the others to speed up. Paul keeps his strides easy, but stretches them out again in order to keep up. His muzzle wrinkles as the scents start to grow stronger, pounding hard into his nose. Paul feels as if he might actually be sick, and his body is shaking as he exits the shade of the forest and finds himself standing in the small lawn before the biggest, whitest house he's ever seen.

It might have been funny in any other situation. Paul briefly considers how many coffins might fit in a single room. The humor doesn't last, though. Paul's eyes rake over the house before remembering exactly what lives in it. And who else might be there, if she has gone against Sam's wishes again.

The wolves all stand in an order-less formation, with Jacob at the front, Paul behind him, and Embry and Quil hesitating at the tree line. Paul's muscles ache as they tighten, and his nose is on fire. The scents of the leeches swim in his head, intoxicating. It's absolutely disgusting, and he might not bear it for much longer.

 _Yeah, we're here now. . . Uh, anybody home?_ Jacob thinks. His head raises, and his eyes stare at the shut door.

There's a moment of stillness. Then, the door creaks open, and first one Cullen, then another, steps out onto the porch. Their eyes are golden, and Paul imagines the corpses of animals that have probably been left to rot, lying limp with two holes pierced in the neck. The first one, an older, more relaxed Cullen, nearly smiles at the wolves as he spots them. Paul bares his teeth, hoping the Cullen extends his hand. Just a little closer. . .

"Welcome," the Cullen greets. His tone is too perfect, too calm and smooth. Paul knows the Cullen has to be aware of the threat the wolves pose, but the Cullen shows no sign. Instead of fear, his tone holds warmth. Embry and Quil exchange a look at his voice while Paul's eyes squint in suspicion.

_We just need the scent, and then we'll go. Sam has already, er, spoken to you before. That's all he wants._

As the thought forms in Jacob's mind, the second Cullen moves his eyes down to look at Jacob. Jacob stands tall, sure of himself, but his pricked ears are a clear sign that he is just as uncomfortable as his pack mates. Paul growls once as the Cullen's eyes focus, and he runs a hand through his bronze hair.

"We just need the scent, and then we'll go. Sam has already spoken with you, and this is all he wants."

Paul shifts his weight uneasily. His eyes skim over the Cullen as he speaks, and his hackles rise as his words nearly match Jacob's thoughts.

The first Cullen nods his head, appearing to be oblivious to the unease of the wolves. "Ah, yes. That we have. If you'll just come this way. . ." The Cullen heads down the porch at a human pace, disappearing around the side of the house. Jacob pauses for a moment, casting a glance in the other Cullen's way before following.

Paul, Embry and Quil are left to stand there. Embry and Quil are whispering thoughts back and worth to each other, leaning back into the forest. Paul stands in the open, completely exposed. He doesn't want to show any sign of fear - he knows he can take out any of them without a problem. His eyes are set on the Cullen. He doesn't like how he stands motionlessly, his blank stare refusing to acknowledge Paul, who is only a few feet away.

The Cullens aren't alive. They're only leeches to Paul. The mind reader's dead eyes study the wolves calmly, and he stands perfectly still. No pulse hums in his veins and no breaths are pulled to his lungs. He stands there, staring straight through the wolves as if they aren't there. Paul feels his paws scrape through the ground, eager to slash toward the unblinking gaze. He thinks he might have the chance to do it, but something else catches his eye before he can make the decision.

There's a movement from inside. Paul's eyes move over toward the door as it opens again, and another Cullen slips out. Paul is struck with another wave of unease, his shoulders quivering as he takes in the appearance of this Cullen. His lips curl as the burly Cullen's eyes rush over the wolves. Just the hopeful shine in the Cullen's eyes makes Paul sick. As if the leech actually cares if she's here or not. As if the leech is even able to care.

As the Cullen's eyes land on the empty forest, the shine disappears. Paul watches his head shake in disappointment. The Cullen rocks back on his heels and folds his arms over his chest. This angers Paul. Does he really expect Jordan to come back? The Cullen looks like he's expecting the white wolf to slip through the brush and move toward him, to come back to  _him_.

Before Paul can even plan an attack, Jacob cuts him off. He trots back over to the wolves without a word, his shoulders set tight. His dark eyes flicker into Paul's own, just for a moment. The command is wordless, but it is clear. He must not attack. Paul's paws scrape through the grass, ripping it out by the roots. He still doesn't turn as Jacob brushes past him, signaling for the wolves to follow with a flick of his ears.

Embry and Quil both ease back into the forest, following after Jacob. Their minds are hushed, their thoughts nearly concealed. Paul's is loud, roaring with the instinct to attack. He wants to, so badly. He craves the feel of tearing through the marble skin of the leech; craves the triumph in the sight of a beheaded body limp on the ground beneath him.

His mind flashes with fantasizing images. The large Cullen, burning down to a pile of ash. Jordan, standing by that fire, the flames flickering in her pupils. The relief of the pack as the Cullen is dead. A smile on Jordan's face as she breaks free of the curse of imprinting. Jordan's body pressed close to Paul's own, enjoying the taste of his breath, his lips, his tongue, pushing him down onto a mattress instead of the rough fall of the stairs.

The volume of his thoughts blasts into the minds of others. He doesn't control them. Paul stands in a wolf's body, staring through the wolf's eyes and onto the face of an obstacle. The Cullen is only a challenge; a test to prove just how far Paul will go to make Jordan stay with him.

_We're leaving, Paul._

Jacob's voice is pushed into Paul's mind. His thoughts are instantly quieted. Paul can feel the embarrassment surging through the others. He snorts at this. As if they haven't ever heard any of it from Sam and Jared. Either way, Paul knows he can't stay here and control himself much longer. He is sticky, as if the strain of his tensed muscles is causing a sweat to break out beneath his coat. Under the pressuring stares of the silent Cullens, it won't be much longer before Paul lashes out.

Paul rolls his eyes at Jacob's voice.  _Relax. I'm coming_.

With that, Paul starts after the backs of the wolves ahead of him. Just before he disappears, he risks a glance over his shoulder, scanning the line of vampires. The highest pair of yellow eyes meet his for just a moment. They bore into Paul's own, narrowing with recognition. A final snarl slips through Paul's bared teeth and his ears go flat. The vampire looks as if he has something to say, but Paul knows better than to stick around to hear it. The Cullen can only glare after the form of the large grey wolf as he disappears into the shadows without a sound.


	43. Breaking Curses

_"Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight_  
 _Just a touch of the fire burning so bright_  
 _No, I don't want to mess this thing up_  
 _I don't want to push too far."_  - Lady Antebellum.

* * *

Chapter Forty Three

Breaking Curses

* * *

It seems like I might finally get to make things right without any interruption. Lies and doubts bombard my mind in waves, but I shove them back. I'm going to Emmett. Nothing will stop me.

I'm sure of this, until a large russet form leaps in front of my path.

"Jord!"

A snarl spits out through my teeth. I lock in place, irritation bristling through me. My fingers twitch, dying to rip off Paul's jaw. I don't have time for this, especially not while I'm millimeters away from falling off the edge.

Paul shifts awkwardly, casually moving back a few feet. He frowns as he catches my expression. "Sam told me to come get ya. For patrol."

I exhale sharply at the excuse. "I have something to take care of, Paul."

"Wha—" Paul blinks, his expression confused for a second. He catches on quickly, though not quick enough to stop me as I push straight past him. I pick up my pace as I do so, trying to get as far away as possible before the realization sinks in.

I only get a few feet before Paul grabs my arm. Again, I have to lock down on the spot to control myself. It shouldn't be this hard to keep his hands to himself. I consider breaking them just to teach him how.

Paul doesn't even realize this, much less care. "Jord, listen."

"To what? You going on and on, wasting your breath?" I jerk my arm free. "Good luck."

"Listen to me!" Paul demands. He reaches for my arm again, but I spin and force him back. His dark eyes narrow, and his jaw pops out, but he doesn't try again. "You shouldn't go," he says slowly. "I saw him. I saw him, and he's moved on. He's fine without you."

"To hell with you, Paul!" I snarl.

His words are acid in my ears. They're supposed to be—he's jabbing his reaction out of me, and I know it, but I can't contain myself. Paul's mouth starts to form another line, but I don't have the patience to give him a chance. I attack without warning, grabbing his neck and slamming him to the side. Paul's face collides into the trunk of the tree with an awful crunch.

"Shit!"

Blood streams from Paul's nose as he stumbles back, clutching his face. A little part of me wants to help him, but the rest has already taken control. I duck beneath the brush without a sound, leaving a cursing Paul behind me. My body is shaking now, and I can feel myself slipping. Each tick of the passing second is wasted; each tick is leading closer to the lapse in my control.

_You don't have a choice. You have to stay here._

The monster's voice is whispering again, speaking in a smooth, soft tongue. Pricks of heat race down my spine and spread across my shoulders. I channel the throb in my head into my determination, forcing the pain to remind me why I have to keep moving; why I can't stop now.

As I struggle against it, the monster fights back. The pricks morph into stabs of fire—burning pain. My knees quiver and my body threatens to collapse. My thoughts churn in my head, and for a moment, I nearly forget where I am. I almost forget who I am.

_"I'll be back at sundown."_

The memory of the words hits me suddenly. I nod once to myself, allowing the sound of Emmett's voice to be my motivation. That's why I'm doing this. Emmett. For Emmett. The air around me is closing in, pushing me back with crushing force. Despite this, I will myself to press on, replaying the deep sound of his voice to myself over and over.

It's just enough to combat the monster, but not enough to silence it. Whatever part of me—of Jordan Uley—that is left is drowned out by the monster. The struggle against it is enough to drive her mad—to make her want to open her skin, burn her veins and split her bones until she can find the monster and get rid of it once and for all. She is insane with the idea of killing it.

I cover distance quickly, even though I can't hear my own thoughts. One foot raises, and the other follows through. Just keep going. Left, right. Right, left. Left, right. Breathe. No, don't breathe. My shoulder jerks in reaction to the scent of the forest, catching sweetness in it. I pick up my pace, lengthening my stride even though my steps are sloppy. If I don't hurry, I'll explode. Either that, or the earth will suck me in and I'll disappear, because I haven't ever been here, really. My body will fall into the fiery pits below and there won't be anything left.

I break through the forest and into the river in a matter of moments. The light is ebbing out from beneath the clouds. An eerie glow is hovering just over the forest. It's sundown, as usual, but I am alone. The rain washes down over the ground, running down my neck, while branches creak and groan. There is no other sound. Still, I know better than to turn my back. My eyes narrow, scanning over the forest. I inhale slowly. The sweetness is stronger now, just as I thought. My stance straightens out as my eyes sense movement on the other side of the river.

Emmett appears through the tree line, his white skin standing out over the green. We are divided by the river, yet somehow, I feel as if we're close. The pair of familiar eyes glitters as they find mine. He smiles in a relieved sort of way as she sees me. I remain motionless. Emmett holds my gaze for a long moment, and then gradually, his lips move to form words. They're not audible, but I can hear the meaning loud and clear.

Four simple, little words. No big, long speech. No apologies or 'I love you's.' Just four simple words. Nearly irresistible. Yet I am still as thick as stone.

I command my feet to move, feeling them squish over the mud. The water is up to my knees in seconds, but I push through the current anyway. There isn't any energy there, suddenly. Every ounce of my being is trying to continue forward, but the chains of my loyalty slither forward and tug at my ankles. Beneath the water, my foot kicks, and I step out onto the bank, coming face to face with Emmett.

The bruises under his eyes almost seem to stand out more. The emotion highlights them, bringing a saddened tone to his smile. His eyes take notice to the distance between us, and he shakes his head. His weight leans forward, his gaze not leaving mine. When I don't respond, Emmett moves closer, slowly closing the distance between us. I only watch, my mind buzzing as I try to force my body to respond to the orders of my mind. The moment is sensitive despite my lack of reaction, and I can feel something baking underneath the tension. Something like excitement.

A part of me is shouting at me, cursing my stupidity. What is there to be excited for? Emmett has felt something like this before. He knows what it means to love, and he's had something at least close to it before. He's had life, and he's had everything so simple and easy for him before I shattered the peace. Emmett has placed a ring on another's finger before me, and he has sighed in pleasure at the feel of another's skin. The monster whispers short doubts in my mind.  _Second, you're second, and second is nothing._

It tells me that I'm just a fling—another game to amuse Emmett's days. It tells me that neither of us will ever know if this is truly real or hallucination because neither of us can sleep. Our minds are unable to fall into a slumber long enough to repair and separate reality from desire. I am not real, and Emmett is just as fake as the smile I wear.

My thoughts are jumbled now, enough that I can't make sense of what I'm thinking and what lies are being injected into my mind. There's a flash of white, but I don't know if it's a grin or the forming of a challenge. I can't tell if the cold hands closing around my arms are pulling me close or if they're grabbing my elbows and snapping bone.

_I am . . . I think . . . I feel, I . . ._

Only one thing is certain. Emmett is made to kill, and I am made to kill him. And I will kill him. I part my lips, showing my teeth and preparing to assume the form that can end everything in seconds.

But my body never changes. Instead, cool lips touch my own, and in that very instant, the raging stampede of thoughts silences. Emmett's kiss is slow, gentle. His hands are holding my arms, and our bodies are drawn together by a force too powerful to control. The core of our existences bind into one as we near, the spark lights. The chill of his body clears my mind, enabling me to think and feel with icy new focus. My heart, an empty, frozen stone, is reborn into a world of soft warmth. Fireworks are shooting off inside me. My chest is pressed so close to Emmett's that I can feel my heartbeat echoing back from his silent chest into mine, and I know that I am alive. The realization crackles over me like thunder. I am still here, and that alone is hope. There is still a chance. Nothing has ended. This still is the beginning.

Emmett is the one to break the kiss. He pulls back slightly. My eyes have fallen shut, but I swear that he's smiling. I breathe out against Emmett's neck, leaning my head down to rest on his shoulder. My hands rest on his chest and my fingers curl into his shirt, unwilling to let him pull back any more.

For a long moment, the only sounds are my heartbeat and the rustle of the swaying treetops. My mind is calm as I inhale Emmett's scent. I wear a real smile, mirroring his as I slowly open my eyes.

He's staring at me, his liquid golden irises bright with relief, happiness, and another look I haven't seen before. His black hair glistens with rain. Up close, his skin is so smooth that I'm having trouble resisting the urge to run my hands all over him. Instead, I take a few moments to find my voice before I speak.

"Don't get too close, Emmett," I hear myself say in a whisper. "It's dark inside."

The words spill through my lips without thought. Emmett lifts a brow as he hears them, but he doesn't ask. A low chuckle passes through his lips. "I'll just have to turn a light on, then."

Emmett's response causes a strong feeling to bloom through my chest. I break out into a grin, unable to stop it. "Good idea."

"Maybe it is," Emmett muses. His long fingers lace with my own and he cradles our joined hands between us. "But then again, you're all alone with a vampire. You should be afraid."

A smirk twists on my lips. "Oh? Well, in that case, a tip for you, from the vampire-murderer herself: watch your back."

Emmett's booming laugh echoes through the clearing. He tightens his hands around mine. "I'll expect a few slip ups, but otherwise, I know you can do that for me." He flashes a grin as he speaks.

"We'll have to see." I wink at him.

A pout appears on his expression. "Damn, and here I thought that one would at least get me another kiss."

"Is that so?"

I thoughtlessly press my body closer to Emmett's own. His brow wiggles as I do so, his approval shining just as bright as the amusement in his eyes. "That's a start."

"Mmm." My hands are warming up, the heat growing against Emmett's icy grip. I gently pull them down, sliding his muscular arms around my waist. As he pulls me in, I drape my arms over his shoulders. The only space between us is the thin fabric of our clothing, and my eyes wander down over Emmett's muscular figure. My thoughts start to wander to forbidden places, but  _I am_  distracted by the pressure that beats down on me. The pressure isn't real—it's only the knowledge that I am defying who I am. Emmett feels it too. I can't tell through his bright expression, but in this moment, we're so close that I can nearly sense every emotion that passes through him, silently indicating that we are one.

The pressure intensifies with each moment, pounding down against us. It's trying to crush us, forcing us back to opposite sides of the river and into our own worlds. The wolf in me senses this and she starts to rise. My gaze holds Emmett's own, and as I stare, the look in his eyes alone is enough to send the wolf slowly bowing into submission.

She has lost. The wolf in me can't overpower my own will just as the pressure of the world can't wedge Emmett and me apart.

The air alone is lighter now, as if the pressure has given up. I release a warm breath and turn my gaze back up into Emmett's. Emmett's lips twitch into a smirk as his gaze meets mine, his hands running up my back. "I've been wanting to ask you something for the past thirty seconds."

Emmett pauses for a moment, his eyes searching my patient gaze. I can hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks. "Would it be a bad idea to have a go at make-up sex?"

I laugh. There's not anything really hilarious about his question, but the idea alone is humorous. Emmett chuckles with me, although there are traces of rejection in his expression. I press my lips gently to the corner of his jaw, silently cursing myself. I don't use words to answer, sensing his hesitation.

A cool hand brushes up my back and around my neck. Emmett's eyes measure the emotion in my own, the backs of his fingers resting on my cheek. "Can you trust me?"

The question is a whisper. There's not much of the joking left in his tone—he's serious. The emotion is unhidden, full of an aching desire. I know that giving in to him would mean that there is no turning back. The ring on my finger is only the question—this would be the promise. My eyes can't tear away from Emmett's, even though instinct wants them the scan the dark forest around us. But I don't need to bother.

"I trust you, Emmett," I murmur.

Suddenly, there isn't any hesitation. Just like that. He's all over me, and I'm responding to him with the same eager burn. It's just Emmett, tasting, touching, and testing. So many other men have tried this with me, and they have taken. I've been pulled down and forced to stare at the alcohol-blurred world around me as they take what they want. But Emmett doesn't. With him, it's different. He inches closer slowly, his body pushing against mine lightly, only testing. His lips move softly with mine, only tasting my kiss, and his hands glide over the bare skin beneath my shirt, only touching.

Emmett's lips find my neck. I bump back roughly into a tree, tilting my head back for him. My breathing is deep, and my fingers are knotting in his hair. I try to contain myself at first, because letting go means that I might hurt him. But Emmett isn't bothering. His thumb slides over the small bump of my hip bone, his other hand resting on my waist as he traps me between him and the tree. I feel no need to fight him off, even as his fingers trail over my hip and down to the inside of my thigh. My fingers scrape against his scalp, and I bare my teeth as the desire inside me grows.

The sharp edges of his teeth graze over my neck. I choke on my breath for a moment, and the dark sky tilts. Emmett knows I'm holding back, and he rumbles as I don't give the response he's wanting. Both of his hands close over my waist and his body pushes up against mine. I instantly respond, feeling my hips move against his. Emmett smirks against the skin of my neck, and his grip tightens as his lips search for my own. My hands run down his neck and then freeze. Emmett captures my lips again, and his tongue brushes over my bottom lip. I don't make a sound, but my eyes are squeezing shut as the burn flickers into a flame. The wolf is trying to find a way out again, as if she doesn't want someone else to put claim on the body that carries her.

As my muscles lock, Emmett raises his head. I have to think for a long moment before I remember how to crack open one eye, then the other. Emmett's eyes run down my face. I half expect him to continue anyway, but instead, he laughs lowly.

"You know, for now," he begins while closing his arms around me again, "This is enough."

Just a kiss. I nod my head in response because I'm still breathless. I wrap my own arms around Emmett, and we stay like that. Silence is comfortable, especially as the feelings that pass through us say it all without breath. Emmett's content happiness brings a smile to my face. He's grinning too, as I feel myself almost relax, the weight on my shoulders having been incredibly reduced. Because of Emmett, I have remembered how to forgive and taken one step closer to finding myself. And because of that, I've learned to trust.

I love him. I'm hopelessly in love with Emmett Cullen, yet full of hope that the future might be brighter. Although we haven't finalized the promise of forever, the ring on my finger is proof that it won't be much longer. But first, it looks like there's going to be a lot more ass to kick.

Our specialty.


	44. Believe It Or Not

_"Searching to find myself_  
 _And all I find is you_  
 _I could hardly stand myself_  
 _So what am I to you?_  
 _You could find a reason_  
 _You could let me know_  
 _I won't blame you_  
 _I just didn't go."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Forty Four

Believe It Or Not

* * *

Hours tick by, passing at a lazy, comfortable pace. Emmett and I stay together, unable to keep more than a few inches of distance between our bodies. There aren't many words spoken—everything is said in the peace of being together. I doze in and out for the first time in weeks, wrapped in the blanket of Emmett's strong hold. It isn't until the temperature starts to warm with the approach of dawn that I wake and throw up my guard once more.

I don't move at first, because Emmett's arms are draped over my body. As my muscles gradually begin to tense and my breathing picks up, Emmett slides his arms off me and rests a hand on my neck, testing my erratic pulse. I smile slightly to myself, rolling onto my side in the dirt to face him. Emmett greets me with his dimples.

"Morning, Jord."

I wear a slight smile while studying Emmett's expression. Dew gleams on his face, sparkling in tiny drops on the line of his jaw and the tip of his nose. We've been out here for a while, maybe even too long. Although the sleep is refreshing and Emmett's hold is better than any action I can find on the reservation, something about the fact is unbelievable. Have we really managed to meet in the middle of the night, under the noses of our families, without any interruption? My mind spins at the idea, half hopeful and half suspicious.

As my mind works faster, Emmett pulls me closer, and I position myself upright. I move slowly, causing the air around me to shift with the motion. Despite the sensation, I don't allow myself to trust my own mind. I reach down to brush my fingers over the denim of Emmett's jeans, only to stop short at the sound of my growling stomach.

 _This is real_ , I decide.

"Speaking of that," Emmett says in a hushed tone. His hand snakes into his left pocket. "I brought you a little something."

I drop my gaze to Emmett's pocket, watching as he pulls out a small bag of grapes that has miraculously managed to remain unharmed. I raise an eyebrow at the bag as Emmett places it in my hands. He chuckles at my expression, giving me a big, goofy grin.

"Ooh, table scraps," I joke drowsily, tearing open the bag with a single tug. "You shouldn't have."

Emmett's brow furrows at my words, his grin not faltering. "I shoulda gone for the Milk Bones."

I flash a smile at him. "Maybe you should have. But. . ." I lean back against his chest and flick a grape into my mouth. "These will just have to do. Gotta eat someday."

"That you do," Emmett muses. He watches me chew and swallow, slipping his hand beneath my free one as I eat. I scoop out a handful, glancing down at our conjoined hands. Emmett's thumb rests over the ring on my finger, leaving just enough space for me to see it there. As I stare, his cool breath brushes against my neck and his low voice whispers in my ear.

"I'll take care of you. I'm promising you that, Jordan."

The skin of a grape lodges in my throat. I stifle a cough before swallowing hard, grimacing as the grape washes down. Emmett's stare burns into the side of my face as I pause, my heart pounding against my ribs. Promise. The monster hates this word—the monster hates the fact that Emmett is openly going against it by choosing to ignore the threats. It sends sparks of hate crackling through my body. For a moment, I feel a crushing bout of disgust directed at the ring; for a moment, I need to crush it to bits. But the desire only lasts for a brief instant. I swallow again, forcing back instinct as I realize Emmett's waiting for me to speak.

"You've got me hanging on to something that's still nothing," I begin. My words come smoothly despite the locking of my muscles. "But this nothing's all I have, Emmett."

There's a moments pause. Then, two hands brush up my arms and around my torso. I am gently dragged over the ground, slow enough to give me the chance to reject the movement but quickly enough that I can't find any reason to. Emmett pulls me into his arms, pressing me back against him as he closes his arms around me. The cool puffs of his sweet breath brush the top of my head.

"Believe it or not, this is all I find myself wanting anymore," Emmett whispers. The soft, low tone of his voice travels into my ear and sends my heart racing all over again. Emmett continues as I stare blankly into the black forest, his hands reaching out to draw mine in, holding our joined hands against my body.

"This is all you've got and all you can give me. And I don't mind. Not at all."

My eyes fall shut as I strain to gather my control. Emmett's fingers are filling the spaces in my hand, making me whole, but his words are sending my heart into a wild burst of speed. I breathe out slowly as I speak, taking time to form my words. "How long has there been an 'us'?"

Emmett's chest rises slightly against my back as he inhales. "Couple weeks."

I laugh once his words sink in. It seems like it's been years—like the clock's been overlapping itself in the mess of things. "We're mad," I tell him through my laughter. "Absolutely, hopelessly mad."

Rumbles pass through Emmett's chest as he laughs along with me. I lean my head back against his broad shoulder, catching a glimpse of the undeniable happiness in his expression. Emmett finds my gaze and his brow wiggles. "It's been long enough that I have to stake my claim and tame this wild beauty."

"And good luck to you," I tease. "You'll need it, what with your very odd sort of taste in women."

"No bother to me." Emmett shrugs slightly, twisting the ring around my finger absentmindedly. "But you pick your men pretty damn well, if I do say so myself."

I grin, turning my face in towards Emmett's neck where I place a light kiss. "Is that so?"

"Of course it is," he brags. His head tilts to the side, leaning in close to my own. There's a moment of quiet, the only sounds being the rush of wind and the heavy beat of my heart. "Just listen to it. I get your body going without even trying."

"Mmm. Fun, aren't I?"

Emmett looks smug as his eyes flash down toward the revealed flesh of my chest. "You will be, I'm sure."

"That's it!" My hands slip free of Emmett's own, my body twisting in his grip as I rock forward and onto my feet. He stays planted on the ground as I glare down at him, mimicking his smugness. "Time to clean up that dirty mind of yours."

Moments after the words leave my mouth, Emmett's face is splashed with a kick of puddle water.

Emmett grunts in surprise, raising a hand to wipe his face clean. As his eyes open, they instantly narrow, filled with a playful glint. "Time to teach you some manners."

Suddenly, Emmett is on his feet. I don't bother to react as he lunges for me, his hands pressing into my back as we barrel straight into the river.

The river isn't very deep at the edge, and because of my height, I'm able to catch myself on the ledge of muck. Emmett's body slams against my own, but I'm braced well enough that I don't stagger. Instead, I slap my hands into the water, sending wave after wave of water flying over Emmett's body.

"When I'm done with you, you're gonna shine!" I yell over the splashes.

"You've already dazzled me, babe!" Emmett crows from behind his arms, which are now crossed protectively over his face.

The next round of water hits the bank, my hand swiping through the empty air. I only have time to give a huff before a rough bump to my side sends me beneath the water's surface. I catch my breath before the current captures me, pulling my body away from the edge and down the river. My hands reach out and drag through the thick mud for a few yards before they find their grip. Once I steady myself, I break the surface and plant my feet against the slick river bottom.

Emmett has some game, but I'm not going to let him win so easily. I scoop up a nice handful of mud, lifting it out of the water as I spin around. I'm about to draw my arm back and prepare to strike, but as my body angles to face the river again, my nose bumps into another. My fingers instantly curl in and the mud spills into the river with a  _plop_. The sound of deep laughter freezes my attack.

"Boo," Emmett murmurs under his chuckle.

The flurry of defensiveness is instantly replaced by flutters that swirl in the pit of my stomach. I find myself smirking instead of striking as Emmett snickers at me, his face only centimeters from my own. Water runs down his hair, dripping off his skin and soaking his clothing, leaving little for my imagination. My skin grows hotter at the mere sight of him.

In this moment, I can't find words. I want to growl at my near swooning, but I'm too overwhelmed by the strength of the foreign emotion that's racing through my body to make a sound. I can only stare at the man so close to me, feeling like my heart might give out if it doesn't slow down. Everything about him—from the cling of his shirt to his body to the brightness in his grin—is so real and bright to me, I almost think the sun might have leaked through the clouds and caught the world on fire.

But I know it hasn't, because the light comes from inside of me, opening up a different part of me. The same light is there in Emmett, showing through his eyes. The golden irises gleam, not with the daze of forced adoration, but with something more. Neither of us are bound by spells and magic—we're making this choice now. It's free will.

Or at least, a bit of it that's allowed in this world.

Our moment is broken by a soft whine. Emmett's gaze settles over my shoulder, his brow furrowing at the sound. I exhale sharply and turn my head myself just as a sandy wolf slinks out of the brush. His body is lowered to the ground and his dark eyes are wide. Wariness radiates off the fur on his awkward body. As I stare into his eyes, the wolf's large head lowers and he repeats the same impatient noise.

I don't say anything to the wolf. I look back at Emmett, my heart already slowing back down as it settles into reality. Emmett meets my gaze as I move, his lower lip pushed out in a pout.

"Gotta go?"

The words slice through me, but my lips form a small smile. "For now."

Disappointment is clear on Emmett's expression. I can see it and almost feel it as if the emotion is my own. But Emmett doesn't hold me back. "Alright, alright." Emmett grins again, spreading his arms wide. "At least give your future hubby a bye hug."

I instantly slip into his tight embrace. Emmett holds me close, our wet clothes pressing together. He smirks against the side of my face as the wolf across the river huffs loudly. The smugness returns on Emmett's expression at the sound and he leans in closer as he breathes words into my ear at a volume that makes it clear they're just for show.

"If things get rough over there and the mood strikes, you know where to go."

A gagging noise sounds out, followed by the shuffle of clumsy paws. Knowing Seth is listening along with the amused smile against my skin makes it impossible to resist playing along. I dig my fingers into Emmett's back and let out a deep, breathy sigh. "I'll be there if you come too."

Emmett growls lowly, although his suppressed laughter is evident beneath it. "Make sure you hurry. It won't be long if you keep me waiting."

By now the gags have shifted into whimpers and brush crackles as Seth stomps around on the bank. Emmett's amusement reflects in me, but the wolf in me forces it away. Even as Emmett pulls back to grin at me, with his wet hair and strong jaw just in reach, even as he presses his cool lips to my forehead, I know I have to go. My arms are paralyzed for a moment longer before I take in a final pull of Emmett's scent and break away. My heart instantly starts to pound as I wade a few paces into the water. I swallow back the thickness in my throat and look into Emmett's eyes again. He stands so close yet out of reach, and that might as well mean he's a million miles away. As the pounding of my heart grows painful, a whisper passes thoughtlessly through my lips.

"I love you, Emmett."

Emmett grins like a fool. I return it instantly, but it falters as Emmett's flickers. I almost think my mind is playing tricks on me again, but the blackness hovering on the edges of my vision prove otherwise. I force my heel to spin in the mud again as the blackness deepens, leaving Emmett standing there in the water, causing him to slip farther and farther away with every heavy step.

I walk straight into the face of winter. All bits of warmth trail behind me, fading away. Ahead of me, in the land where I belong, the lights have drowned in shadows and chills race through the wind. There's fog hanging over the ground, lying to me, making it seem as if my mind is clear. Each breath pushes heat into the air. I suck back in each exhale until my lungs ache, just to fill the sudden emptiness inside of me.

As I near, a breath of air stirs the brush, shaking the forest. The gentle serenity found in the warmth of Emmett's arms is choked out by the cold reality of the world that I belong in. A world where dormant genes change boys into soldiers in the blink of an eye; where any well-grounded individual may become a monster by dawn.

The dark shadows wrap around my figure as the drive to protect swells in side of me. I am frozen—a spot of red gone blue—until fever pierces my veins and starts to spread through my body, swallowing me whole. The pressure clamps down on my shoulders again, coming as an aftershock to the sudden bite of ice. This time, it's preparing to shake me, to rattle my core and grind out every trace of Emmett inside of me until I'm nothing but bone and blood—nothing but a killer trapped inside an abnormally tough skeleton. There's only seconds left.

Another stinging breath is pulled through my mouth. With it comes the sweet scent of Emmett, still there, standing back across the river. I know there's no time to waste, but my eyes are riveted back to him. The wind blows through my hair, throwing a wave of it in front of my face. Through the spaces of the black locks, two golden eyes catch mine in a stare, following the bright flash of a smile. One eye winks at me, and then the final traces of warmth are gone with the man darting back into the forest without a sound.

Just as the shell of my body starts to crack, I can hear my own voice in my head, whispering words that don't have time to reach my lips: _I'll come back to you._

The wolf inside cries out, begging for release from this body and this suddenly tortured mind. I don't have any time to waste. I clench my hand, fingers digging through thin cloth and denim, tearing the clothing off my body. As one leg reaches out into another stride, I throw myself forward, shedding my human skin in seconds. My paws thump silently to the ground before disappearing into the brush ahead.

On this side of the river, there isn't much grass. Layers of dirt have peeled away under the paws of dozens of generations of wolves. What's left of it is soggy with the rain, churned and mixed into muck. My steps are practiced enough that I don't leave a print and there isn't a single clump of white hair snagged in the thicket. Although I might be careful, the sloppy steps of oversized paws scatter across the mud and crushed twigs are littered with barely invisible strands of sandy fur. The scents of the fur match the scent of the wolf that is approaching me from behind.

_Nasty! Nasty, nasty, nasty! All this gooey love is . . . nasty!_

Seth rants on in his head, barely managing to cover the memory of the shared moment witnessed between Emmett and I. Through his mind, the act is convincing enough to seem as if we really meant each word that's said—it's convincing enough to send the nausea rolling through Seth's body.

The sandy wolf is shaking his head from side to side as he tromps through the brush toward me. My mouth is curved back in a wolfish grin, although my mind is scattering across the forest, picking up on scents and sounds undetected by the distracted wolf. Huffs puff out of his mouth as he tries to fall in place with me.

 _Not so fast, kid_. I rocket forward suddenly, leaving Seth behind in a spit of mud. I freely stretch out my legs and work my muscles, picking up the pace, as I'm sure there's no nearby threat. Even though the forest is calm, my mind and body remains on alert.

Seth isn't anywhere near focused. The memories continue to blare in his mind, causing him to paw at his head in an attempt to stop them.  _So I'm just supposed to stand here and think about . . . that?_

_Do you know how to do anything else?_

There's a pause. _Um, no. Not really._

I swing my head sharply, taking out a small thorn bush.  _Then you're good for now._

 _But that's not fair!_ Seth's paws thump in the distance as his mind flashes with images of the forest. Sam keeps me out of everything.  _This is my second patrol and I. . . C'mon, I'll shut up about it. Promise!_

My pace remains steady, even as Seth comes up next to me, his head raised and his ears perked. He has to push himself faster to keep up, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. I don't think anything of it. My focus centers on the surrounding forest. But Seth's mind is jumpy, filled with questions and observations and random thoughts that fly through his mind without much point.

The two of us run like this for nearly half a mile. I have the stealth to run smoothly and silently without a mark, but Seth is inexperienced and sloppy, flattening out the brush behind us. If that isn't enough, his thoughts grow louder and louder with each passing moment until they nearly block out every other thought.

Anger starts to set in, and I know I can't let it overtake me. With a flash of my teeth, I roll my head in Seth's direction, stopping in place. As I do, Seth stumbles to a halt. His eyes widen and his paws slide.

 _Whoa! What's—_  Seth freezes. His dark eyes narrow in on a space in my fur, peering at the red mark on the skin of my neck. Images of breaking skin and flows of blood expand through his mind.  _What's_ that _?_

My lip curls back slightly, revealing the tips of my teeth.  _The answer to that belongs behind closed doors,_  I think to him. My tone is casual, but the sarcasm is heavy underneath.

Seth doesn't notice the sarcasm, though. His mind has abruptly gone nearly silent, only displaying the forest around him.

The rest of the patrol doesn't lead to anything entertaining. There isn't much to see, especially with the sheets of pelting rain pouring through the treetops. Branches tremble under the rush of the wind. Bark is stained black as it rots in the cold wetness. Mud melts through boulders, spilling into fresh pools of rainwater. There is miles and miles of green silence.

I slow as I reach the end of the trail. The salty water leaves a tang in the air and I can hear the sound of waves sweeping over the beach. Everything is still here, and nearly calm until Seth nears, trailing behind.

 _All clear!_  he announces cheerfully.

 _Damn._ I huff, my gaze watching the beach through the spaces of the trees. _The whining and begging chased off all the fun._

 _Hey!_ Seth yelps in offence. _Jeez. I'm still getting used to all of this._

 _Note to self,_ I think in a mutter. _Never patrol with the ones who run like moose._

 _Sorry, Jord._ The sandy wolf stops a few feet behind me, hanging his head. _I just wanted to have some fun._

 _Fun?_ There isn't fun in this life. There's the exhilaration of the wind and the rush of the crush of bone in our jaws, but there isn't fun. This life is so much more than Seth can even comprehend yet. He's just a boy.

I don't get the chance to respond. As my thoughts shift, Seth has darted over to a tree. He's spotted a squirrel as it eases out of its place in the branches. I can hear it chittering with delight as it realizes the rain has stopped. Its tiny paws scrape the bark as it darts out. I raise my head to catch a glimpse of the little black animal. The movement catches the squirrel's eye and its whiskers twitch. A moment later, it lets out a shrill alarm and scatters off.

 _Aw man! You scared him away!_ Seth leans around the tree and barks out once.  _Don't gotta be scared, little guy._

My ears press flat to my head.  _Do real wolves make friends with squirrels?_

Seth's head turns over his shoulder. He stares at me for a long moment before he grimaces.  _Uh, no, not really. But, uh, I was supposed to tell you something earlier but I forgot._ He shifts his stance, quickly turning away as he senses my attention. _I don't know if Sam told you, but we have another pack meeting at his and Emily's soon. Guess we'd better head out now since we're done, huh?_

As the thought scrolls through Seth's mind, I'm already moving, set into a jog.  _Unless you're craving squirrel stew, we'd better get it over with._

()()()

Seth marches straight into the house, already beaming before he reaches the door. I follow behind in my dirt-covered clothing that I've just ripped out from the top of a tree. Moss crumbles off my shorts and rain drips off my hair while mud is caked to my skin. I barely even notice, but just to humor myself, I wipe my feet on the mat before I duck inside.

The house is home. Any stranger could think that. The scents of sweets and the warmth in the atmosphere might actually be calming if not for the tension that buzzes above my head the second I step inside.

Everyone has to be here, crammed into the living room. Jacob stands at the very edge of the group, his eyes tight and his shoulders set. Jared paces behind him, mumbling into a phone. The rest of the pack stands around the small television, circling around Brady and Collin who are crouched right before the screen with wide eyes.

Sam leans against the wall. His arms are folded tight to his chest and worry wrinkles his forehead. He nods as the door shuts, too consumed in his thoughts to look over. I stand at the edge of the circle and behind the couch as Seth peeks around Leah. Jared brushes by me as he continues to mumble into the phone.

"Hey, guys!" Collin pipes up, breaking the heavy silence. "Look what I found!"

"It's just news, dude." Brady sighs.

"Maybe it is." Collin shrugs, brushing off Brady's words. "But it's a lot better than listening to Sam go on and on about how important patrols are!"

"Would you chill out?" Quil groans. "You're gonna worry yourself to death over nothing."

"Sounds good to me," Paul grumbles.

I raise an eyebrow, moving closer to the gathered pack. Leah, who's closest to me, glances my way and angles her shoulder just enough to make room. I slide in place as the pack continues to speak, my eyes trained on the silent blue announcement floating on the screen.

"That's happening in Seattle, Sam," Nicole says quietly, as if she doesn't expect a room full of people with enhanced hearing to hear her. "It's so close to us."

Sam doesn't respond. He watches Jared pace, frowning to himself.

"It is close," Jacob agrees in a low voice. "What the hell are we gonna do if it comes here?"

"If what comes here?" I ask suddenly. Various pairs of eyes turn on me, while others stare straight ahead as if I haven't even spoken.

"There's something going on in Seattle," Paul tells me, refusing to look my way as he speaks. His jaw is tight, but the aggravation in his expression seems indirect.

"Murders," Collin adds.

"And there's enough problems out there already," Jacob continues. "What if it comes too close and we have to step in. Bella—"

From beside me, Leah's eyes narrow. Her voice comes out clipped, dripping with annoyance. "Forget about Bella. We've heard enough about the leech-lover. She'll probably have sprouted fangs by the time that problem comes any closer."

Leah's words inject another layer of tension in the air. Jacob's expression darkens, highlighting the stress that seems to weigh him down. Circles ring his eyes and his hair is more shaggy than I've ever seen. It's almost as if he's being crushed by his own worry.

"Leah," Sam mutters. "Enough of that."

"Fine," Leah spits. She meets Sam's even stare without a pause. "You all can worry all night about Bella, let Jake kill himself over her. I'm not going to waste my life over that pathetic—"

"You will," Sam insists. His voice is low, powerful, although the authority is strained by his own exhaustion.

"Will what?" Leah challenges. "Bow down and obey your command? Go ahead, Sam. Keep me in this pack and torture me every day."

Sam's brows pull together. Leah shakes her head at him, then the pack. She doesn't wait to be excused. Instead, she storms out of the house, making sure to slam the door behind her.

Sam rubs his hands over his face as the force rattles the house. Seth flinches and shifts his weight to his other foot. The rest of the pack doesn't seem bothered, far too used to it by now.

I grind my teeth. If this is really another Bella fretting gathering, I have no place here either. My gaze jumps from face to face, but no other wolf moves. We all stand in silence, staring at nothing.

Seth breathes out quietly, looking over at Jacob. "He . . . he could be right," Seth says hesitantly.

Embry nods to back him up. He clears his throat before speaking. "What if the problem does come closer? What if whoever it is threatens our people?"

All eyes move back to Sam. He presses himself back against the wall like a cornered animal. A heavy sigh is heaved from his lungs and his gaze moves to Jared. Too absorbed in his conversation, Jared heads into the kitchen to start another lap of pacing without any acknowledgment.

"What if this is connected to Bella?" Nicole smirks as she says the words, her icy gaze finding my own. "She's human. We have to protect her. And there have been so many leech problems lately, it could just be another one of those. If it is, we have a direct connection to find out what's going on."

I snort, holding Nicole's gaze. "I'm not a mailbox for Leech Land."

In the corner of my eye, I watch as Jacob casts a expectant look Nicole's way. Too focused on me, Nicole doesn't even notice. Instead, she whirls around to face Sam. "Sam, you're in charge. What do you say?"

Sam rakes a hand through his hair, his cheeks puffing out as he blows out a large breath. He frowns at the floor before he looks my way, his mouth moving slowly as he forms the words. "You could."

Nicole's approval practically glows. She flashes a content smile my way. "Well? What do you say?" Her tone is sweet and thick, making it clear that in her eyes, I don't have a choice.

The rest of the pack is still as they watch. Paul's the only one who moves, turning his head to stare directly at me, seeing and speaking as if I'm nothing but air. "She does the pack a favor. If she still cares about any of us, anyway."

My insides are churning and my veins blaze. I growl once, meeting each expectant stare with a glare as I turn back toward the door. "Don't expect me to take notes," I mutter as I pace over to the door. Three long strides and I'm out in the open, breathing in the cold once more, shaking my head as I hold myself together against the temper that burns inside.

"Just make sure you keep it casual, sis!" Nicole calls through the open door. I don't look back, but she keeps talking anyway, her voice projecting over the trees and ringing in my ears.

"Don't let them know how divided your loyalty really is. It makes us  _all_  look bad."


	45. Favors and Fevers

_"Tie a knot in the rope, tryin' to hold, tryin' to hold,_  
 _But there's nothing to grasp so I let go."_  - P!nk.

* * *

Chapter Forty Five

Favors and Fevers

* * *

The gloom of the grey skies is infectious. My expression has morphed into a dark mask and my senses have set on high alert as I slip through the forest, ducking and twisting to avoid leaving any trace of my presence behind. The heat of my body saturates the air, pulsing out in large waves. I imagine the forest around me bowing beneath the fire, the brush crippling and bursting to dust as I pass.

I keep my mind working, picking out sounds and sights. The quiet intensifies my guard, keeping me ready to act in a moment's notice. The sting of leech is already seeping into the air long before I have even neared Cullen property. I swallow back the bile in my throat, inhaling slowly as I pick out a perfume much sweeter than the rest. A fragrance that can only belong to one man and one man only.

The scent strengthens as I approach the house the tree line. I pause there, standing at the edge as I survey my surroundings. There isn't much of anything different other than the soft lights and tang of celebration in the atmosphere. I don't dwell on it, though, because as I come closer, someone hisses inside the house. The sound is followed by a victorious whooping, and then a low mutter. A familiar boom of laughter rings out into the forest.

"And here she is!"

Emmett's gloating shout is followed by the swing of the door. He takes a single stride before hopping off the porch. My eyes skim over his clothing, noticing as the wind of his small leap reveals the muscle beneath the open buttons of his shirt. My body heat spikes again with some sort of fluttering emotion, but my expression remains neutral as Emmett approaches.

"Hey, babe," he greets. The huskiness of his voice is clearly intentional, and so is the smirk that rises on his face as goose bumps crawl over my skin. He leans down and presses his lips to mine for the briefest moment before pulling away, his eyes gleaming with the usual child-like amusement.

In different circumstances, I might have picked up on his teasing and gave him a taste of his own medicine. But this is business, and my focus is centered on getting answers instead of getting lucky. I flash a simple smile and nod once, quickly gathering my thoughts.

"Now, I know you're not coming all the way over here for the graduation party. So that's gotta mean that you came to give me a congratulations gift?" Emmett asks, wiggling his brow.

"No, that's not it." I find myself breaking out into a grin as I reach up to twist a button on his shirt in my fingers. "I'm here on duty."

"Oooh, a woman on the job." Emmett laughs deeply. "Even better." He rocks back on his heels, his hands rubbing together eagerly. "What kind of duty is this? It wouldn't be some sort of private, secretive thing, would it?"

I'm grinning again. I reach up and slide my hands around Emmett's own, feeling my fingers brush lightly against his marble skin. I step close to him, allowing little distance between us. "Not just yet." I breathe the words without minding the attentive ears just inside the walls. "There were little wolves on the TV, saw something about mass murders of humans in Seattle." I watch Emmett's expression start to brighten as I speak. "And I'm playing the secret spy who casually strolls over and questions you to find out if your family is behind it all. Really, I'm on a mission."

Emmett is mirroring my grin. He studies my expression before shaking his head. "Spy, huh? Forgot the heels and tight pants. And the whole secret part." His left eye flutters shut in a wink. "But it just so happens that we might have your answers. I think you'd be interested in this."

"Mmm." I squeeze his hands. "Your definition of interesting, or mine?"

"Both." Emmett chuckles, squeezing my hands in return. His fingers slide through mine as he drops one of my hands, leading me up toward the steps. "We don't have long before the life of the party shows up, so we'd better make it quick."

My eyes narrow slightly, the amusement leaving my expression. I can already feel the sizzle in the air without Bella gifting the place with her presence. There isn't any reason for her to know about the Seattle issue before the pack does—it can't concern her, a human. Unless there's another round of misfortune set for her to unleash over all of us.

I don't speak as Emmett pulls me along. The feel of his secure hold on my hand is enough to keep my head together, but my instinct has other ideas. My eyes roam around our surroundings with suspicion.

As we pass through the house, my shoulders square and my nostrils flare. Everything is exactly the same, yet somehow different. It only takes seconds for my sight to zero in on the wall of graduation caps. A few new additions have been tucked neatly into the corner. That is insignificant, though. It's the whiff of cheap strawberry shampoo coming from one of the them that has caught my attention—the scent of a human.

The caps on the wall are only a flashing reminder: that very scent will burn in a short matter of time.

I'm bristling by the time the odor settles into my nostrils. Emmett remains silent, but the relaxed slump of his shoulders show no sign of unease, even as he senses my rigid posture and draws me closer. Despite the reassuring gesture, I have to swallow a growl as Emmett leads me into the main room.

Decorations light up the dull room, turning it into something that might actually pass for a celebration. The mood of the place is exciting, like a match about to be lit, but to my sharpened senses, the stink of leech instantly restores the bleakness. The two male Cullens in the room are already aware of my and Emmett's presence, their backs stiff and their heads turned to greet us. The two darkened pairs of wary eyes follow our every movement from the moment we step onto the carpet.

"Damn, sure is quiet! Anybody awake in here?"

Even Emmett's good humor fails to thin the tension that hangs above our heads. I take note of the others in the room—Carlisle and Jasper—carefully analyzing their positions. Carlisle, standing by the large window, has positioned himself to face Emmett and me. He's almost smiling, but the angles of his brows suggest concern. Jasper averts his gaze as Emmett speaks, focusing only on the low mutter of the stereo as he leans against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. He's still enough that it seems like he might melt right into the wall in any minute. Warning signs shoot off in my head. I know better than to fall for the harmless act.

"Oh, c'mon!" Emmett continues. "We're supposed to be throwing a party. Who hit the snooze?"

"Even a small lapse of focus could become a weakness."

My eyes instantly slant at the low tone of Jasper's words. My gaze burns into the side of his face, yet he remains frozen, as if oblivious to the steady stare. Emmett slips closer to me, his fingers falling from mine as his arms wrap around my waist. My knuckles pop as my fingers curl.

"I'm certain a night of celebration won't cause any harm, Jasper," Carlisle says gently.

"That's exactly what they want us to believe," Jasper mutters in response.

In the corner of my eye, I watch Carlisle's brow furrow. His eyes shift over to Emmett. There's a long pause before he speaks. "Perhaps it would be best if she—"

"I came here for that," I interject. My gaze doesn't move as I speak, my voice sharp as ice. "An explanation."

Each yellow gaze meets the others, exchanging another wary look.

"If the threat is coming closer, they're gonna have to get involved anyway," Emmett suggests. "Even though we could take them down alone." His voice rings with clarity, reminding me why I don't need to tear out any throats.

"Don't overestimate—"

"Why not, Jazz?" Emmett's mouth quirks into a smirk. "Not scared, are you?"

I feel my lips twist, unable to stop myself. A newfound appreciation forms inside me at Emmett's own nerve. Although his tone is teasing, Jasper only hears the words.

Finally, Jasper's eyes rest on me, acknowledging my presence. He studies me with caution for a minute before his lips twitch and his jaw clenches. "What's happening in Seattle is the cause of our kind. Many of our kind."

Adrenaline floods through me. "Good. It won't be much of a problem, then."

"No." Jasper's words are spat, brisk and sharp. "This is an army. An army of newborn vampires. Young, ravenous, and strong—stronger than you'd think them to be. We shouldn't expect that they can be dealt with so simply."

The flood evaporates instantly. My eyes flash with irritation and words fly off my tongue. "You're right. It is underestimation that'll get you killed. My teeth pierce my tongue for a moment, drawing a prick of blood. It's the only thing that keeps my lips from peeling back.

Jasper's eyes darken to topaz, shaded with agitation. "You don't understand what they're capable of."

"We can't overlook anything," Carlisle says slowly as my lips part again. "The situation is a growing issue, but we can't pinpoint what the initial cause is or the goal. Of course, at this point, it's clear that this is much more than a human criminal."

"What the hell are we doing standing here?!" I snarl. "We need to go deal with this now!"

Emmett's chest shakes with laughter, as if my outburst amuses him. "I second that. About time there's some action."

"You don't have the experience," Jasper snaps. He speaks in an exaggerated tone, as if he's talking to a child. "Which is why you shouldn't plan on interrupting the situation and ending up with more scars than you're bargaining for."

Jasper finishes with searing stare. My veins throb and my teeth grind, but it's all useless, because Jasper has already pressed his luck. There's only a split second of reasoning—just the feel of Emmett holding me close to him—before my control shatters.

"And by what right can you assume that?" My lip has curled back, my teeth bared and ready to shred. "By what right do you know that I can't blow you to pieces in the blink of an eye?"

The wolf shudders at the words. I lean forward, challenging the still yellow gaze. "By what  _damn_  right?"

"Emmett, she—"

"Shut the fangs, Doc."

Carlisle seems to recoil at the sharp bite of my tone. He steps forward and then pauses, seeming at loss for how to react. I send a flash of teeth his way, taking another step forward. My gaze is trained on Jasper, waiting for him to react.

Jasper's nostrils are flared wide, burning with my scent. Irritation is clear in his stare, yet he doesn't react. He keeps his lip curled but his teeth hidden as if he somehow knows better, his hands clenched together behind his back, his body still as a statue.

"Hey now," Emmett says carefully. His arms are around me again, holding me close in a way so much more intimate than before. The wolf roars inside of me, sending images of his disassembled leech chunks flashing behind my eyelids.

 _I need to kill._ The desire courses through every nerve in my body, buzzing, drowning out everything else. But below the surface, my own voice speaks above the impulse.

 _No, I need to stop._ I know I'm on the verge of going ballistic and falling into the pit of fire expanding deep inside of me.

The two orders clash in my brain. They struggle against the other, neither of them able to win out. My chest heaves and my clothes tear with the strain of my shaking. Carlisle darts forward and rests a hand on Jasper's shoulder. I watch his lips move, his gaze resting on Emmett. Something there—whether it's his expression or his feelings, I don't know—causes Jasper to nod and retreat. Even as he backs away, I don't relax and my eyes don't leave the yellow until they've disappeared, completely out of reach.

A howl of frustration leaves my lips. I start to thrash in Emmett's hold. The stink of the Cullens is pumping into my lungs, my brain sending out stream after stream of heat. The wolf is swelling inside of me, her power growing with each moment. Emmett's soothing words are in my ear, and his hold is still tight. His words are stalling the wolf's advance, but it's not enough to calm her.

Shreds of my clothing fall to the ground. I feel my eyes spin around wildly, looking for escape. My heart hammers loudly in my ears, my breathing ragged and wheezing. My fingers are raised and waiting for the chance to strike. Waiting for the chance to tear through flesh.

And then, suddenly, the arms disappear around me and I'm spun around. My hands close around Emmett's throat as his cold lips press around mine. He's kissing me with a sort of desperation, but my hands remain constricted around his throat. They shake and burn against his skin. A small voice inside me screams wrong, that it's all wrong, but the wolf's voice defeats it.

My hearing strains out through the walls, searching for the music of the forest. I can only hear the crackle of stone as a car slowly rolls into the driveway. Emmett's mouth pauses as the sound reaches his ears. His hands slip over my own and slowly pry them away. He breathes out loudly, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he all but drags me to the door, his breathing stopping in mid-pull as my hands constrict his neck.

Suddenly, I hear a sharp crack, and my heart sinks. Cold mist blows across my face and splinters rain down on me. I am about to turn on myself until I realize the crack is only the sound of the breaking of the door, but my body still doesn't relax. My hands slash through empty air as Emmett sets me down outside.

 _There it is._  The line of green freedom is just in reach. I'm about to sprint to it, to enter it and fall back into the form that's bursting out of me, but a cold grip stops me. I snap my head back and growl, one low, sharp sound, but the large hand remains locked around my own.

The man's eyes meet mine as I glare, lip curled and body fuming. I can see the light of my reflection in his darkened irises—my expression fierce in a way that's molded to look animalistic, the black spill of my hair whipping in the wind behind me and the blue stones of my eyes piercing into his own. The man's gaze is desperate, his thick brows puckered as he stares without fear. I toss my head back as my body struggles, held back by some heavy feeling in my chest although I'm dying to rip straight through him. My voice is thrown up into the sky, my throat screaming out a round of feral sounds similar to those of a caged animal. Finally, the man's hand opens as I screech out in rage, suddenly freeing me. I huff loudly at the loosened grip, jerking myself away from him and leaping off the porch in a single bound.

There aren't any footsteps behind me. I shoot a glance back to see the man still standing there, his hand dropped to his side. His eyes find my own, and he only nods. No shout or lunge; just a nod. No anger, fear, or hurt, just understanding.

I'm beyond the point of realizing what that look means. I rumble lowly at him, my teeth bared in warning. As the man remains in place, I duck around the house and head out for the trees, not wasting a second.

My thoughts bounce off one another like hundreds of tiny wasps trapped inside my skull. I am still jerking, my body ripping apart from inside out. I clench my jaw and tense my muscles, ready to throw myself straight into the shadows, ready to collapse into the wolf, when the crackle of churning tires distracts my attention. I snap my head to the side, my eyes narrowing at the silver car that's pulling into the drive.

Through the glass of the tinted window, my sharpened vision makes out the pale arm, seeing the veins there and hearing the even beat of a heart. The girl wears a brace on her wrist and a fancy blouse, her mouth parted in a groan. I consider approaching, my instinct suggesting that I take advantage of the unaware target, but the muffled click of a shutting door ends the thought. My gaze tears away from her, only to find a male bloodsucker standing stiffly on the other side of the car, peering over the roof with a hardening golden gaze. I rest my own stare on the leech, imagining the scorch of my body charring him to ash. Some part of me knows better, though, and I feel my eyes flash before I melt into the shadows, leaving them both without a mark.

Time speeds up the instant I hit the shadows. My body dives forward, finally shedding my human skin. I'm in motion the moment my paws touch the ground. Dashes of color smear the forest and fire flares in the air. My fur stands on end as my body shoots straight through the dense vegetation. The forest is dim and the trees are whizzing past, but I don't pause for anything as hot blood pounds through my parched veins.

Each stride is painful as the wolf thrashes inside me, forcing me faster. The brush slashes at me, blocking my way as they lean over the trails in gnarled clusters. Their fingers tear at my fur and whip deep marks in my shoulder blades. I flash my teeth and snarl at the brown, tangled jungle. The thorns bite at exposed flesh, dragging through my gums and catching in my jaws, the tiny pricks lodging in my teeth. Drops of my blood splatter onto the wet leaves churned over by my frantic paws, but the tiny wounds are sealed by another zap of adrenaline.

After minutes of twisting and tearing, I crash into the river. My body is humming with all sorts of reactions, my mind spinning. I scan the green ahead, my heart thudding heavily in my chest. I release a large breath through my parted jaws, cracked pieces of branches tumbling into the currents below. My blood runs thickly through my veins like warm honey, slowing my mind and body down. My sides expand and contract as I breathe out the vapor of my dying fire before I pace onto the bank, heading into muddy, patted-down land that's been worn by dozens and dozens of hours of pacing the same route.

The second the pad of my paw sets down on my land, the jumbled thoughts of the pack slam into my mind.

_She's back!_

_Ugh, catch a whiff of that leech stench. Smells like she . . . nevermind._

_Leeches in Seattle! Leeches are the problem!_

_Oh, really? Never woulda guessed. Even though that's the reason why we're all here._

_Damn Cullens are standing around doing nothing!_

_Well, they might have a point. . ._

_They have no point at all! When we gonna head out there?! We outta send a patrol out today!_

_Er, that sounds kinda. . . Why not tomorrow?_

_Today? Tomorrow? Ooh, why don't we go yesterday?_

_Shut up, Brady._

I slide through the brush, reaching the open space if gathered wolves in minutes. Each set of paws is set at a brisk pace as the pack circles one another, round and round over the mud slick and smeared with overlapping paw prints. Heads toss in disagreements and bodies rumble with frustration. The tension crackles above our heads, humored by the heat of our bodies.

 _Why the hell are we wasting breath?_ I flash my teeth at the sets of razor-sharp jaws that brush past my own. My white form slips into the dizzying assortment of wolves, mixed in with the rest as I join in on the pacing.

 _You didn't do your job, Jordan_. _That's why_. Nicole huffs at me, her grey head rising over the shoulder of another wolf. Icy eyes gleam in the dull light, searching for mine but failing to find them in the bodies. You were supposed to have gotten more information than this.  _You wasted all of our time by wasting minutes quarrelling with that Cullen._

 _Oh, is that so?_ My ears press flat, my body skimming across the shuddering form of a smaller wolf.  _And I suppose your never-ending shit talk is of valuable use to all of us, sister dearest._

The small wolf's dark fur bristles. Brady's mind presses into mind in alarm, his mind filling with the memory of the ache in his crushed windpipe. _Sam—_

 _We don't have time for any of this._ Jacob's voice cuts over the other thoughts _._ His body pauses at the very edge of the circle, his large head angled to face the brush.  _We're talking human lives here_.

An image of Bella Swan's worried expression reflects from Jacob's mind into the packs' mental link.

 _Give it a rest, Jake_. Paul trots past the large russet wolf, his dark gaze purposely trained straight ahead.  _This isn't about her._

Various snorts and snaps of teeth back up Paul's statements.

A paw slides through the muck as Jacob's body lowers into a defensive stance, his shoulders taut. _Our protection applies to all humans._

 _And that's why we gotta protect Bella, too,_ Seth tacks on as an afterthought. His eyes dart in Jacob's direction as the thought leaves his mind.

By now the pack is slowing; the wolves are less frantic as each mind starts to wrap around the news. Mutters of agreement pass through some minds while others expel uneasy whines. I stand at the back of the group, braced and ready to act if necessary, the heat of my temper still smoldering in my core. As thoughts begin to buzz with controversy, each gaze turns to Sam expectantly.

The black wolf remains in place, his paws planted firmly against the mud. His eyes follow each wolf, his mind settled and calm. It's not the sort of calm that comes with authority and leadership, though—it's the calm of something near disinterest. Sam shifts his weight as the pack gives him undivided attention, heaving a heavy sigh through his muzzle.

_We should find out more before we act._

Paul continues to pace around, his anger boiling inside of him. He shakes his head, padding past Sam and in my direction, his gaze still reluctant.  _Spy mission already failed, Boss_. His fur buzzes like live wire as he passes me, the hostility lifting the hairs of my coat like static. My claws press through the muck but my eyes remain set on the black form ahead.

 _We'll have to do something before we attack_ , Nicole reasons. She nods as she aims the thought straight to Sam as if she isn't taking any other opinion into consideration.

 _But how would we do that_? Jared jogs around the wolves to flank Sam, ignoring Nicole's stiff posture as he unconsciously holds himself up with authority.  _We've already sent Jordan. We know what's going on but it seems like this is something much bigger than we think. We'll have to find out how to go about taking care of this before we rush over there and get our hides skinned._

As Jared's words slow, Jacob's flutter. His mind projects a wave of sounds and pictures, overlapping over all others of the pack. My muscles tense as the scene before my eyes shifts and changes.

_Jacob lounges on the cramped couch, his arm lazily drooped beside Bella. His russet fingers are raised, aching to touch her smooth pale skin; to feel the pulse beating beneath it; to feel the warmth of life. He holds himself back, though, slumping into the cushion and folding his hands over his flat, muscular stomach. In his peripheral vision, he takes note of the chocolate of her eyes that mirror the images coming off of the muted TV._

_"You're graduating," Jacob begins. "Wow. That's big. Any special plans?"_

_Bella releases the stink of fear into the air. It's brief, but Jacob catches it. His eyes squint as if straining to catch tiny words on the screen, suspicion hidden behind his expression._

_"No_ special _plans," Bella says slowly. Her voice is beautiful to Jacob. Her words flow so easily around him. Easy as breathing. He starts to speak, to let out the relief settling into his worried brain, but Bella interrupts, unable to notice the small part of his lips._

_"Well, I am having a graduation party. It's mine." She makes a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. Jacob fights a smile, his eyelids dropping as he listens in to the sound of her beating heart. "Alice invited the whole town to her place the night of. It's going to be horrible."_

_Jacob's lips curve despite himself, his tired eyes too heavy to open. "I didn't get invited," he finds himself saying. The thought of hanging around in the bloodsuckers' den flips his stomach, but Bella's pulse is a lullaby that's lulling him to the brink of conciousness, hushing the reflex that tells him to take back his words._

_Bella shifts in the couch. Jacob can feel her skin brush his and his smile grows. She's so soft. He only remembers three words before the exhaustion blurs out the rest of the memory._

_"Consider yourself invited."_

Jacob's thoughts roar over the others for a moment longer before they go blank, draining down into quiet once more. I inhale deeply as the world around me settles, green and wet and hot once more.

Leah is quick to counter the memory, blasting out a roll of images pulled from Jacob's thoughts. The swing of a fist connecting with Jacob's jaw flashes behind my lids, followed by the splinter of bones as the knuckles hit Jacob's strong jaw. The tone of Leah mind is bitter as she hurls thoughts into Jacob's mind.  _It's their issue; let them deal with it. We don't need another one of us marching on over there and starting more crap._

_They're out there killing tons of people, Leah!_

The grey wolf flicks her ears in Paul's direction, her dark eyes narrowing to slits.  _They're not our people. They're strangers, dozens of miles away._

Images of blank, distant gazes and bloody, torn throats float around in my mind. I push them outward, ignoring the flinches and snarls.  _Which is why we go now, before they get any closer and become our problem! To hell with going over there and talking tea party. People are getting slaughtered, damn it!_

Nicole is quick to step forward. Objection radiates off every fur on her coat. _We should let Jacob go and found out more first. We only know the basics, as Jordan has failed to find out the rest. The Cullens know more about what's going on than we do. If we can work more out with them, it may be better for the whole pack, even if it means having patience._

I throw my weight around, sending mud flying. Instinct swells, blanketing over my thoughts.  _There isn't any patience for the dying!_

 _What do you say, Sam_? Jared bumps his shoulder into Sam's, dismissing my thought with ignorance.  _We gotta do something._

The black wolf merely nods his chin and transfers his attention to Jacob. He stares for a long moment, his mind still eerily blank and focused only on the forest, mildly entertained.

 _It's what we should do_  The russet wolf swishes his tail once and barks out a sound of determination.  _We'll need to know more first._

Seth whines, his sandy body lowered to the ground, sinking beneath the tension. _You sure, Jake?_

 _For the pack._  Jacob dips his head, breathing out a puff of steam.

 _Well, you shouldn't go alone_ , Embry thinks softly.

The pack mind has all but banished the idea of going into action here and now. Paul grumbles at the switch of things, ranting to himself. We exchange a look as he passes, sharing the same fire, but it blinks out as Paul averts his gaze. I shake my head sharply at the worry hopping from mind to mind, displaying an image of Carlisle and Jasper seated alone in the living room.

_They're separated anyway. If your tail is in that tight of a knot just because of a couple of 'suckers, don't plan on strolling on over there._

Jacob's teeth point over his lip for a moment before he thinks better of it and settles with a snuff _. Good enough. Without waiting for further instruction, he hurriedly lunges into the brush, his mind set on the relief as he flips through thoughts of his human master._

Quil paces after him, ducking through the pack as they watch. He casts a cocky look my way, seeming pleased that my idea has been shot down, although he masks it with his statement.  _Better hope your parasite don't bite._

I raise my lips, both in reaction to Quil and Nicole's chortle, but Paul's mind beats my comeback. He shoves a push of irritation Quil's way, imagining a chocolate rug flattened out over the floor, with my feet standing over it. Quil's smugness slowly dies down at the image, his paws seeming to have a much faster pace over the mud. Embry glances around after him, breathing out quietly. He jerks his clothes free from his ankle, taking them in his jaws before he hustles after Jacob and Quil.

The rest of the pack stands like statues, all movement abruptly ended with the finalization. Pairs of bright eyes stare into the shadows, hackles raised and paws wearing away at the muck below. There's a sensation of excitement crackling above us, even beneath the gloom. I shake my head at the pack, turning my large white head toward the small space in the forest where the wolves have disappeared. Their minds are fading fast, but I to push out one final sentence before they're gone completely.

_One mark on his skin and there's gonna be pairs of matching mittens._

Nervous barks of laughter rise in the distance, echoing over the trees. My ears burn with the sound and my teeth gnash together furiously. Moments later, the laughter cuts off and three trains of thoughts break off from the rest, falling into silence.


	46. Rash Agreements

_"Early morning, wake me up_  
 _Father father father, this is not enough_  
 _Oh oh oh oh."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Forty Six

Rash Agreements

* * *

Hunger.

I'm full of hunger. It's not a craving or desire; it's a ravenous need—a starvation. I must satisfy the wolf if she is to ever back down and leave me to my own head. She's filling my brain and demanding to be let free again. She knows that I have let go of her and reach for my humanity once more. And she sure as hell doesn't like that.

I pace restlessly, back and forth, wearing away at the muck beneath my hot paws. Paws that ache to crush and break. A body that has been built to do just that. To demolish, to destroy.

Yet at the same time, there's another feeling battling against the hunger. The wolf feeds the desire, forcing it to strengthen inside of me, urging it to push me until I just can't take it. But in the pit of my stomach, there's a solid emotion that is anchoring me down. Some sort of feeling that sends shudders rocketing through my body. Some sort of force that defies the wolf, testifying her rule on the throne of my control. Some—

 _God, can you keep that shit down? I'm getting a freaking_ _migraine_ _over here._ Paul huffs obnoxiously, his deep-set eyes shooting daggers in my direction.  _Besides, some of us are actually_  trying  _to patrol._

My thoughts are too scattered to form a response. Instead, I slam my paw down, crushing a stray rock beneath the pressure. The movement alone amuses the wolf, but she wants more than that. She yearns for the salty tang of blood on her tongue. I shake my head and focus hard on sending one mud-streaked leg out in front of the other, trying to keep my rhythm steady.

 _You're not doing much better, Paul,_ Nicole remarks, pointing her muzzle in the air for emphasis.  _If you'd keep your eyes off her, maybe you would get somewhere too._

 _I ain't looking at nothing!_ There's a sound of heavy, angry footfalls in the near distance, but my attention remains centered. _Nothing much to see, anyway. Jordan's like a zombie, or. . . Something's wrong with her. Still._

 _Oh, for the love of all things holy._ Leah gives an annoyed huff, padding past me as she follows the invisible route we're all set on.  _She's in_ love _. That's what's wrong with her._

 _In love? With what?_  Paul's mind jabs at my own, sifting through my tangle of thoughts.  _The weather?_

 _Is your brain just a ball of fur too?_ Leah's aggravated eyes dart my way. The white of my fur reflects in her eyes for a millisecond before she tears her gaze away, suddenly focused on placing her paws in the dry patches of the ground.

 _You're both stupid._  Nicole scoffs.  _Jordan's just twice as bad._

Two growls echo each other simultaneously. My mind buzzes at the rush of the thoughts that sprint through my mind, aimed for Nicole.

 _You wanna piece of me?_ Paul challenges, his large grey body looming threateningly in the spaces of the trees.

 _Come again, bitch?_  Leah snaps. She has her hackles raised and the curves of her teeth are showing beneath her raised lips.

 _Two hotheads and a maniac_. Nicole rolls her eyes, unaffected by the heated thoughts of her pack mates. She trots ahead of the rest of us calmly, shaking a light mist of rain from her shining coat.  _What a lovely patrol Sam put together. Just more proof of his slacking._

I shake my head abruptly, turning my gaze left and right. Nicole is in the lead, setting the pace for the rest of us. Paul tromps along a few yards away from my shoulder, matching each stride. Leah's on my right, keeping up without as much effort, her nimble body able to race along without as much effort. They are all radiating frustration, as if the anxiety for the return of the patrol headed out to the Cullens has riddled them all with weary excitement. I still boil under the wolf's demands, nothing more than a skeleton made up of flesh, bone, and impulse. My pack mates' arguing nags at the back of my mind, barely grabbing my attention.

Until a few words hit me like a brick to the skull.

_She probably doesn't even understand what love is._

Her words crack my mental wall. With an infuriated snarl, memories spill out from my mind and into the others. I shove it at Nicole—all of it, all at once—forcing her to witness everything. Puddles of blood; cold, empty nights; a stranger's skin pressed on my own; the frequent absence of emotion. But with it comes the raw anger, and so very much of it, coursing through me and swallowing me whole.

The silver she-wolf shakes in her skin, reddening behind her fur. She winces at the sight of my small hands curled together, the skin bruised blue by the cold, watching as the scene shifts to display those same hands stained red with the crimson death of a man, his mouth gaping open as he lay limp over my body. The memories surge forward, growing hot and real in the minds of Paul, Leah, and Nicole, punching into their skulls before they break through the bone and return to my memory, becoming more and more vivid, and so hot, so  _real. . ._

_Stop it!_

The monster shrinks at the sudden blare of the feminine voice inside my head. I snap open my eyes, although I don't remember shutting them. Nicole squirms in the muck, my strong white paws buried in the thick fur of her chest, pinning her down. I'm only centimeters away, our eyes locked, my teeth embedded deep in a muzzle wet with blood. Fear gleams in her icy eyes, her front teeth bared and her ears flat with submission.

I don't move. My body is numb as I regain myself, slowly feeling my brain fall under my control. Nicole whimpers as my teeth slowly slide free, a long stream of her blood running off them. She glances at my legs and heaves upward, knocking me off of her. Rolling to the side, Nicole rises to her feet in a wobbly, unsteady way before shaking the mud off her coat. Her shoulders tremble with shock and her eyes study my stiff, white form, as if she's expecting another outburst. I catch a glimpse of her expression but don't dwell on it. I watch the wound seal before my eyes before I pull in deep, careful breaths and relax my twitching muscles.

Paul and Leah's minds have both hushed. Leah shakes her head slowly, her mind running through a list of curses, while Paul gawks at me, his dark gaze suspicious as if he's sizing up a stranger. The only sounds are the trickle of rain and our loud, heavy hearts for a long while. All of us remain motionless, facing opposite directions, only breathing and waiting.

It might have been minutes, hours, or even days. But at some point, the long-awaited eerie shimmer disrupts the silence and three other minds merge with our own. The chatter of each train of thought is meaningless to me. I roll my shoulders and study the rain-drenched skin of a tree, barely able to take notice of anything else.

 _What are we waiting for? Get the others out here!_  someone thinks hurriedly.

Someone else near me throws back their head and releases a powerful howl, projecting their voice over the treetops. The sound punctures the silence and rings into the air, holding steady for a few moments before slowly dying down. It's not much later that other minds flow in as many other wolves burst into the forest. Thoughts bubble out from mind to mind, although mine remains half-empty.

 _Nope, no action yet_ , Quil announces to the incoming wolves. He's pacing frantically in a tight circle, his dark, wind-blown fur ruffled and his eyes shimmering as if he can barely contain himself.

 _Darn_. Seth mumbles in response. His sandy form appears in the trees, Leah sauntering behind his heels.  _But we'll have some soon, won't we?_

 _Gosh, what could be so important at two in the morning?_  Collin questions groggily as he mimics Quil's pacing.  _Fuller and me just hit the hay, and then bam! Up we go again. Say, you coming or not, Brady?_

Brady's ashy fur is visible through the same opening in the brush moments later. He scrambles out toward the rest of the pack, his jaws parting in a deep yawn.  _Sorry, dude. I'm exhausted._

 _You didn't have any issues?_ Sam's voice is directed straight at Jacob. I can hear his paws thudding softly on the ground behind me as he comes forward, but I don't turn, because a few feet behind him, Jared is approaching, and Paul jogs over to stand with them.

Jacob steps forward, coming into my view. His russet fur is smooth and dry although his eyes are frazzled with too many emotions at once. He shakes his head at Sam's question, his mind working too fast to put his thoughts into words.

 _Awesome_. Jared brushes past me, his dark eyes set on the russet wolf.  _What'cha got, Jake?_

Jacob opens his mind and releases a bout of memories almost immediately. The pack all draws in a collective breath as the thoughts swim through our minds, drowning out the forest. I dig my paws into the dirt as if holding myself into reality as Jacob's recital of what he's found begins.

_Jasper's expression is terrifying as he slides in place in front of his mate, his body making a clear barrier between Jacob and Alice. The lights flash in his eyes as he stares. To his side, Alice watches Jacob as well. She frowns at him, slowly turning to face Bella, who is pressed against the wall with a confused expression on her face._

_"The decision's been made," Alice murmurs hesitantly._

_Bella's alert gaze rests on Alice. "You're going to Seattle?"_

_The pixie-like Cullen sighs. "No."_

_It takes a moment for Bella to catch on, but as she does, the color drains from her face, making her even paler than usual. "Th-They're coming here," she chokes._

_Well, the Cullens didn't attack, so it wasn't all_  that _fun_ , Quil offers, concluding the memory. He casts a disappointed look my way, sending out an image of Emmett. His dimpled grins sends shots of hurt into my veins, something near pain. I am filled with a strong urge to reach into the memory, to feel the thickness of his hair and run my hands over the firmness of his muscles. I have to remind myself that it's not real—it's just a memory—to keep myself from lunging.

Paul picks up on the emotion rising inside me and snaps his teeth.  _Shut up, Quil._

Quil snorts, but the sound is cut off by Sam's heavy sigh. His black body shifts as he repositions himself and dips his head in Jacob's direction. The russet wolf returns the nod, his eyes skimming the attentive gazes of the other wolves before he plays through the rest of the memory.

_"Yes," Alice replies patiently. Her eyes flicker over to Jacob for a millisecond, studying his expression. He feels the crinkle in his brow and the tremble in his hands but forces himself to stay quiet._

_"To Forks," Bella whispers in a haze._

_"Yes."_

_She gulps. "For?"_

_Alice nods slowly, seeming to understand something that Jacob doesn't. "One of them was holding your shirt."_

_Curiosity gets the better of Jacob as the conversation continues. He ignores the warning glance from Jasper, focusing on Bella as he speaks. "Hold it._ What _is coming?"_

_"Our kind," Alice answers quickly, almost hastily. "Lots of them."_

_Jacob glowers at her yellow eyes. "We know that. But for what?"_

_"For Bella."_

_Quil and Embry are slowly turning behind Jacob, suddenly desperate to run out of here and back to the pack. Jacob stops them with a barely visible shake of his head. This time, he looks right at Jasper, addressing him directly. "There's too many for you."_

_Jasper hisses too lowly for human ears to hear. "We have a few advantages. It will be an even fight."_

_"No." Jacob half-smiles, excitement spreading through him as a plan unfolds in his mind. "It won't be even."_

_"Excellent!" Alice exclaims._

Jacob pulls up an image of Bella's panic-stricken expression, his memory still in motion. Nicole interrupts quickly, breaking up the thought before it can completely form.  _We've heard_  e _nough of her._ She shakes her head sharply as if trying to clear out all traces of Bella from her thoughts.  _So, what is it that we're doing, Jacob?_

Jacob swings his head from side to side, too eager to mind Nicole's rudeness or so much as look over at her.  _I was getting to that._  He frowns at Sam, his expression questionable.

Once again, the black wolf isn't very responsive. His dark eyes are full of a mixture between concern and wariness, clearly still nowhere near trusting the Cullens. His mind replays Jacob's memories over and over as if searching for some excuse to slip out of what's bound to come.

Beside him, Jared lets out a slow, impatient breath.  _Well?_

The russet wolf raises his head, standing above the other wolves. I swallow back a growl at the gesture.  _We're going to put this all together. Fight with them and learn how to kill off the leeches that are coming. Protect Bella._

 _And we get to kill some vampires!_  Seth notes cheerfully.

 _No killing yet. First we have to have a "strategic meeting" with a bunch of parasites that we can't kill and think that we don't have what it takes._  Embry thinks, somewhat disgruntled.

 _Where at?_  Nicole presses. Her silver fur is raised over her shoulders and her ears are perked. She's trying hard to put on an interested act, but it's not working very well. Jacob fails to notice this either.

_Three o'clock, just outside Hoh Forest._

_We'd better get going,_  Leah thinks bitterly, her small form pacing angrily over the wet ground.  _Before the 'suckers think we all caved and we miss out completely. Oh, ha, nevermind! Let's all stay put._

 _C'mon, Lee_. Seth bumps his shoulder against his sister's with a timid whine.  _This is fun!_

 _Sure it is, runt,_  Leah mutters. Her teeth are revealed in the darkness, white and pointed.  _I'd rather drink raw acid than have to stand around watching the Cullens pounce on each other_.

 _We should get going._  Jared agrees. His brown body trots in Leah's path, blocking her way. He dismisses her annoyed rumble with a flick of his ears and glances Sam's way.  _Coming?_

_Yes._

Sam's sides swell with another sigh as he lurches forward, trudging after Jared. I shake my head and fall in step behind him, the rest of the pack filing out behind us. I study the droop in Sam's shoulders and the lag in each step with suspicion. His blood flows healthily and his heart beats regularly, but some voice insists I take note of his strange behavior.

Nicole catches up in seconds and wedges between Sam and me. Her fur is bristled and spotted with dried mud and her eyes alight with irritation. But, when they catch mine, they lighten ever so slightly. I huff at her and drift off to the side, running alone. Various colors of coats blur ahead as we race on as one, heading out to the leech land united.

I decide to ignore the nagging voice, not wanting to give the monster any advantage. Instead, I drag in a deep breath and strain to catch the slightest whiff of Emmett's scent, knowing that despite the riled conflict between us, he's out there, waiting.


	47. Inciting Instruction

_"So show me family_  
 _All the blood that I will bleed_  
 _I don't know where I belong."_  - The Lumineers.

* * *

Chapter Forty Seven

Inciting Instruction

* * *

It's not much longer until the trees are packed closer together, forcing us to spread apart, and the ground beneath our paws hardens, silencing our movements. The pack is on full alert—ears perked, muzzles raised, heavy hearts pumping steadily with the beat of our pace. These lands have always been restricted. To run them now is somehow wrong, and the fact that we're running them to meet in peace with our enemies doesn't help much.

All thoughts are muted, the packs' minds too overwhelmed by the dark, dense, untouched forest to comment and question. My eyes scan over the nimble bodies that flash by, picking up on the hidden panic of the smaller wolves. They might as well be blinded by the green land surrounding them. Their clumsy paws crash through the brush in frantic attempts to catch up as they fall behind. I often find myself shoulder to shoulder with another, but the cramped forest always pushes the other behind before they can fall in step beside me. I press forward with ease, a white ghost braving the tumbles of vines and gnarled brush without a second thought.

We run like this for a good two miles. Eventually, I break through the thicket and enter a new patch of forest. Here, the thinning trees stretch up to the sky, and the brush is spread out, allowing rain to soak into the earth.

Seconds later, the brush behind me shudders, and another wolf trots forward to stand beside me. His muscles ripple under his russet coat as he moves, tense and stiff with unsettling anxiety. I keep my steady stare focused straight ahead as he pauses, taking in the area around us. One thought manages to form in his troubled mind.

_We're almost there._

_Almost,_ I respond. I pull in a short breath, unable to smell anything beyond the damp scent of the forest.  _But not yet._

There's a snuff of breath behind us. In my peripheral vision, I watch as branches snap and break under various pairs of paws. Nicole is the first to shove through them, shaking her head madly. She rights herself after her paws touch the bare ground, eyeing Jacob and me warily. Sam's hulking black form is right on her heels, the rest of the pack not far behind. As we all reunite, a sense of relief washes over the pack, but each mind remains quiet.

The movement halts for a single heartbeat. Nicole stalks forward, pushing past Jacob and me, her attention directed at him as she steps out in front and states her nonexistent superiority. The rest of the pack remains still, seeming unsure of how to proceed now that we're so close.

I snap my teeth at the pack's hesitation, jogging forward suddenly.  _Yeah, yeah, we made it through the jungle._   _Party hasn't even started yet, though, so what are we waiting for? Damn pack of kitties._

My shoulder rams into Nicole's as I pass, causing her to topple on her side at Jacob's paws. She bares her teeth as Jacob stumbles over her with a grunt, jerking her head away as if to hide her embarrassment. A sharp reply bubbles up in her mind, but the impatient tone of Jacob's thoughts crushes the comeback before it even forms.

Paws pad easily over the ground again. I drift off to the sidelines as the pack reorders, all of the passing wolves giving me a wide berth, as my presence is repulsive. I ignore the language of their actions, falling deep in thought as I make my way through the forest. The mainstream of the packs' mental connection is blocked out as one thought becomes dominant.

_Emmett is waiting._

I sense him out there. Some part of me is so in tune with him that it's almost as if a part of him has been molded inside of me. I breathe in slowly, my mind flashing with brief, cut-off images of our last encounter. I can only imagine how I look to him—crazed, wild, out of control. That should have broken everything; it should have made him realize how dangerous even a short kiss can be. Yet, it hasn't ended. My mind fills with the memory of the emotion shining bright in his golden eyes.

No anger, fear, or hurt. Just understanding.

Maybe he does understand.

Maybe.

My wolf is feeding doubt back into my system. In this body, she has more freedom than she does when I take on my human form. She wants to kill him. To her, Emmett is nothing but a leech. Nothing but another kill. To her, this is a game, and only one winner will come out alive in the end. Impatience nips at my heels, urging me to hurry to him and to deny the wolf any sense of satisfaction or control.

Someone whines behind me. At first, I think it's just a reaction to the heated controversy roiling inside me. But a moment later, the odor of leech enters my nostrils, burning into my nose. The pack riles, minds striking up alarm and anticipation all at once. Even Sam, who has taken to lead with Jared by his side, gives a rough cough at the stench. Paul echoes the noise with a gag of his own.

Jacob is the only one who doesn't seem to find much wrong with the scent. He hurries toward the front, extending his head to try to get a better view of what's ahead. Nicole blocks his way, her silver form darting in between the trees as she goes. Sam glances back at the two of them, his attention divided by all sorts of tangled thoughts and feelings. Jared bumps into him as he pauses, taking it on himself to set the pace evenly and lead the pack up the hill, wordlessly expecting us to climb it stealthily.

 _We should spread out again_ , Jared suggests.  _It'll make us look more united._

 _Yeah, that's a good idea._ Paul gallops forward, hot on the leader's heels.  _Makes us look bigger. More threatening._

I snort, lunging to begin my own climb. My gaze searches the area ahead, but all I can see is the tips of the five pairs of ears ahead of me and the fat, shadowed trunks of trees. Other wolves are much more timid, their steps slow and careful as if they're too nervous to make a sound. Despite the packs' different emotions, we manage to situate ourselves in a spaced line by the time we reach the peak of the hill, and the twelve of us begin the descent as one.

The scents are stronger now. More defined. I can pick out one from the other easily. There are noises too, a low utter of hushed voices. My veins bulge as my heart sends blood rushing through my veins. I crane my head, picking up my pace as we near. The wolves in the front gradually decrease their pace, even though we haven't left the shadows, until finally, everything is brought to a stop again. I place my paw down, moving into position with the rest of the pack, hidden in the shadows. As my eyes take in what's ahead, they narrow.

The Cullens stand together, many of their backs turned and unprotected. The white light of the moon throws shadows off their bodies, casting them across the soft dirt of the clearing. They're positioned in an informal circle, discussing something amongst themselves. As the pack comes into place, the conversation cuts off and many pairs of shining eyes turn our way. Moments later, the Cullens break apart. I stare at one in particular, back still turned. My lips twitch at the sight of his head, raised above the rest. My heart thrums in excitement, waiting for him to turn to face me.

In the side of my vision, I study the human-like movements of the rest of the Cullens as they form a line, mimicking our own. Esme's eyes widen as she takes in the sight of us, her mouth popping open slightly in surprise. She leans back against Carlisle, who stands directly behind her, although his own shock is hidden behind his unreadable mask. I release a smug rumble at their fear. The large grey wolf behind me nods in agreement before looking ahead again.

I turn my gaze back to the Cullens, my eyes searching for Emmett. Instead, I'm drawn to another couple, one a pale-faced man and the other a helpless girl. I feel a wave of disgust at the mere presence of the human, standing here as if she too is very much involved—as if she somehow deserves to be involved in the conflicts of a world that she doesn't belong in. The disgust is strengthened by the sight of Edward, who holds Bella to him. His lips are at her ear, much too close to Bella's white throat. Although he's trying to hide the glint of want in his expression, my eyes can see it clear as day. I've seen it all too much, over and over and over again, just as much as I've seen the clouded death in a countless amount of red irises.

Bella stretches up onto her toes as the Cullens move, catching onto what's happening much later than anyone else. Her eyes search us, missing most of the wolves by a foot as her weak vision fails to separate the shapes from the blackness.

After a minute of gawking, she frowns, turning her head back to Edward. "I don't get it. What's wrong?"

"The pack has grown," Edward murmurs, his voice a soothing, disgusting velvet tone. "It's quite fascinating."

I slant my eyes further as Bella nods slowly, her gaze moving over to the pack again. She pauses at the middle. In the back of my mind, I can feel the warm swell of affection in Jacob's mind as Bella finds his stare. He holds his ground, but the desire to go to her courses through him, strong and untainted by Edward's presence. He gives a throaty chuckle, the sound soft and quiet, as Bella blushes deeply.

The disgust has thickened into nausea. I have to tear my gaze away from Saint Bella and her Prince Charming to keep myself from voicing my disgust. The moment my eyes move away, they connect with a lone pair of golden. In that moment, the sickness melts away, forgotten.

Emmett stares directly at me, having no problem picking me out from the rest of the pack. I know the white of my fur is hidden, stationed behind a tree and clothed in shadows, but the blue hue to my dark eyes must give me away. I'm almost thankful for them in that moment.

My eyes rake over Emmett, assessing every inch of him carefully. He's completely relaxed, as if he doesn't have a single worry in the world. His lips are spread in a wide smile, and he winks an eye in my direction. I flash my teeth in response, giving him a similar goofy smile. Emmett gives a good-hearted chuckle, holding my stare for just a moment longer before he is distracted by a sudden movement. Naturally, my gaze follows his own just as the leader of the Cullens takes a careful, deliberate step forward, moving away from his family. His hands are lowered and clasped together politely, but the attentive gleam of his eyes betrays his perfect calm.

"Welcome," he murmurs, his voice a light yet firm greeting. He pauses after he speaks, trailing into patient silence.

Expectant minds nudge Sam's. The black wolf huffs in the darkness, his breath a swirl of steam. His mind is a clutter of uncertainty, but he only hesitates for half a second before he responds in a flat, dead tone.

_Thank you._

Just as the thought solidifies in Sam's mind, a much smoother voice mimics it. "Thank you."

All eyes shoot toward the source of the voice, studying Edward's expressionless composure warily. Jacob hums low in his throat, expressing his disapproval. Paws shuffle around, unnerved by the mind reader's ability. Minds begin to flare with alarm. I curl my lip at the thought of backing away, and Nicole backs it up with a snap.

_Quiet! And pay attention. We'll need this if we are to go into battle._

She huffs under her breath, although her skin warms as Sam sends a grateful nod her way. Nicole dips her head in return. I can feel her attention lingering on my expression for a heartbeat, but I ignore the sensation completely and channel my focus on the leeches.

Sam's flanks tense as he continues tentatively, his mind zoomed in on the face of the leader as thoughts scrawl across his brain.  _We will observe, but nothing more._

At first, there isn't a response. Paul leans forward slightly, his chest heaving. Edward doesn't seem to notice, his brow furrowed as his eyes scan each pair of eyes, rising and falling to meet each height. Many wolves freeze, unease rolling through various minds. I work my paws in the dirt below, staring, until finally, Carlisle throws a look Edward's way. He catches his gaze evenly.

"They'll watch, but they're unwilling to do anything more than that. It's the most they can ask of their self control."

Carlisle nods slowly. "That is more than enough." He relaxes as he turns slightly, gesturing behind him. I growl once at the sharp, predatory expression on the face of the Cullen who steps forward. Carlisle continues to speak regardless, oblivious. "Jasper, my son, has experience in this area. He will be instructing us."

Sam mutters his relief.  _Fair enough_. He shakes his head and his mind detaches from the others, drifting into the rush of the other's thoughts. There's another few thundering seconds of silence, each mind sharpened yet standing still as if waiting for the Cullens to act first.

None of them do. Leah is the one to break the stillness, the bitter edge in her tone clear and loud.

 _Might as well get cozy,_ she mumbles.  _They haven't bothered to bare their fangs at us. Yet._

A collective sigh passes through the pack. Each body lowers to the ground one by one, settling down on the damp soil. Even Paul flattens out reluctantly, although he grumbles to himself while doing so. The only wolves who remain standing are Jacob, who is too alert to even consider relaxing, Nicole, who's clearly set on outdoing Jacob in every way possible, and me, because I won't bow in the presence of a leech even if my legs got hacked off. I stand at the far edge, blocking out the russet and silver forms beside me, my eyes tracing Jasper's movements as he stalks forward to take Carlisle's place without a word.

The Cullen's expression is set, his shoulders raised around his neck in a taut, formal manner. His eyes stare at a point just above the relaxed wolves' heads, refusing to acknowledge them. My muzzle twitches in amusement. This isn't his place, and he knows it. Still, he steps before us, only to send a warning glance Edward's way and turn his back. Jasper's sentences come in a drawl, tight and carefully worded, directed at the five parasites and the scrawny human as if the pack of wolves looming behind him are as harmless as the shadows that stretch over the forest around him.

"In the newborn stage, our kind is at the height of their strength. Physically, they have every advantage against you. If they manage to get their arms around you, they'll crush you instantly. Without proper training, none of us would stand a chance against an army of them.

"On the other hand, their impulse control is weaker than our own. Their common sense and reasoning has yet to have the chance to develop. They fight like children."

Jasper pauses for the slightest second, his breath catching. His voice is strained as he speaks again. I start to grin at how uncomfortable he is, but his words send the grin away as quickly as it came.

"The most important thing to remember is to not, in any circumstance, underestimate the enemy. You  _will_  lose."

The words are arrows pointed straight at my ears. I release a low, frustrated sound that vibrates deep in my chest. Many of the others respond to the sound with whimpers and snorts, clearly unhappy with the Cullen's lack of confidence. It's as if we're all nothing but slabs of meat, completely worthless unless all else fails.

 _Cocky bastard preaching underestimation to something he hasn't fought yet. That makes a hell of a lot of sense._ The thought breaks through the dense bubble of my thoughts, entering the pack's connection. I don't take notice to the others' reactions, though; my attention is directed at the unprotected back just a lunge out of reach. It will only take seconds. Just a leap and a snap, and there won't be any cocky bastard to preach at all.

I brace myself against the ground, leaning into squishy moss. It'll only take seconds. A breath spits through my bared teeth, my muscles contracting as they get ready to spring. My mind races along at a mile a minute, abruptly preparing itself without any further command. The temptation is strong, nearly unbearable. The sharp angles of the Cullen's shoulder blades jut out as he turns, narrowing his back into one straight line. His spine is right there. It would be too easy.

The packs' thoughts begin to flutter around my own, catching onto the path of my plans. I show the fine points of my teeth, warning them to stay back. My breathing stops, my lungs frozen, filled with a burning ache of desire. It's the hunger again—the need to kill. Once more, I'm finding myself trapped beneath the spell of my wolf, influenced by her as if she holds the reins of my control in the cage of her claws.

She's pulling those reins back, raising my head slowly and urging me to get in position. Her impulse is directing me, raising one paw and letting it fall soundlessly to the ground, rolling the curve of my shoulders as I begin to creep forward. My ears ring, the shrill sound screeching out as I take another step. The Cullen is even closer now, still just in reach. I plant my paws down and bunch my muscles, pulling in a final breath. My teeth snap and my eyes pinpoint the cut line of his neck—the breaking point.

And I almost do it. I almost leap straight out of myself and into the full control of the wolf again before anyone can stop me. But just one word stops it all and sends me spiraling back into reality.

"Emmett."

Instantaneously, my advance ends. My eyes move instead, trailing after the muscular form of Emmett as he struts toward Jasper. I reel in a sea of humid air, filling my lungs with the taste of the forest, only to blow it out a moment later as Emmett breaks out into a huge grin, revealing the dimples of his smile. He pauses after a few strides, standing before Jasper like a white angel, his skin bright against the black of the early hours. Barely-contained enthusiasm twinkles in his eyes as he slides into place, almost as if he can sense my gaze.

I have to take a minute to piece myself back together. The wolf in me has quieted suddenly, but my body is numb as the reins are passed into my hands once more. I shake my head slightly and bump my shoulder into the moss. Drops of rain splatter over my coat and sink down to kiss my hot skin, wet and cool and real.

After another moment, I'm breathing normally, and the forest around me has returned. I can sense each puff of hot breath on my back, along with the many pairs of eyes staring at me questionably through minds that don't know exactly what to think. I brush off the sensation and lean into the tree, feigning boredom until there isn't searing pressure on the back of my head and I'm in my own space once more.

Jasper matches each of Emmett's steps with one backward stride of his own, speaking without taking his eyes off him. "Emmett will go first. His style is very similar to a newborns—they rely on raw strength."

Emmett pauses away from Jasper, cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck around. "I have my woman watching me, so don't try anything funny—she doesn't need ideas."

The pack gives a disapproving mutter. My expression remains smooth, unaffected, but I grin inwardly.

Jasper ignores Emmett's statement. His liquid eyes hold Emmett's own as he drops into a crouch. "Don't hold back now—you only have to catch me."

With a nod, Emmett expels a cool breath. In the blink of an eye, he charges forward, his feet barely leaving a mark. Jasper rises up to meet his charge the second Emmett comes in contact. The impact of their connecting bodies gives off a bellowing thud, like two rocks slammed together at once. Emmett's muscles flex as he strains against Jasper, the two of them locking gazes. Impatience quickly gets the better of Emmett and he grabs Jasper by the side, sending him flying back.

My eyes follow Jasper's white figure as he crashes down. His foot touches the ground for a brief moment, and then he's up again, rushing toward Emmett. Emmett smirks and lunges straight at him, sure that he's got him, but there's nothing there. Emmett huffs and slams his feet down to stop himself from toppling head first onto the ground. I growl warningly as Jasper doubles back and comes at Emmett from behind, but Emmett is just quick enough. He raises his forearm to block Jasper's blow, and the two break apart again, circling for a brief moment before Emmett throws himself at Jasper once more. Jasper twists, dodging the attack that would have otherwise beheaded him.

The rest of the pack watches the brawl intently, some entranced, others more critical. I am prickled with heat from the close calls of the combat. I don't have a problem with Emmett fighting, not minding the beauty of him in action or the deep focus set on his expression. It's the stealth and confidence of his opponent that's setting me on edge.

Jasper ducks around Emmett, coming up behind him once more. Emmett gives a frustrated grunt, his grin gone, coiling back before striking out at Jasper with a swing of his arm, only to miss by inches. He shakes his head, baring his teeth for a moment as he paces back, his eyes locked on Jasper. Jasper spins around to face Emmett, but the movement isn't fast enough. Emmett kicks off, this time moving before Jasper has a chance to anticipate his movement. Emmett gives a victorious shout, but the sound falters as Emmett lands, looking confused.

His big hands have closed around empty air.

Out of nowhere, an echoing boom sounds out, followed by a slight cough of dust. I jerk my head up, growling lowly as the dirt floats away in the night sky. As it clears, I can see Emmett, lying flat on his back on the ground. Jasper stands over him, looking amused, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. The rest of the pack gives an approving mumble as the fight concludes.

No sound leaves my throat. I'm struck with a jolt, like an electric stake has been shoved through my ribs and out the other side. There aren't any thoughts in my head now, just a burning, buzzing need. I shoot forward in a flash, howling out in pure rage, my teeth bared and aimed for Jasper's exposed throat. Time ticks by slowly as Jasper twists his head around, and I can feel my teeth grazing against his granite skin for a moment. I imagine the glorious crunch of his neck in my jaws.

But I don't get the chance to feel it.

Emmett slides in front of Jasper abruptly, his hands raised. He takes the blow all at once, his arms cracking from the force and his body crushing to the ground below my own. My eyes flash and my jaws snap shut as I land right over Emmett in a heap of burning skin and snarling jaws.

For a single heartbeat, I lay over Emmett, his cold body completely covered by my own. I lean back in reflex, staring down at Emmett. His arms are crossed in front of his face, his eyes closed behind them. My throat swells at the sight of him, my eyes searching for any signs of injury.

As the shock subsides, the pack breaks out in yelps and barks. I howl in return, the sound infuriated, extending my head out to the shadows and baring my long, sharp teeth. The sounds quiet, but thoughts push at the borders of my mind, struggling to break through the tightly knit mess of emotion. Their thoughts have no effect on me—I'm too far gone to even register what they mean.

I snap my head to the side and repeat the sound out to the Cullens with the ferocity of a lioness crouched over her prey—ready to defend at all costs. The Cullens are frozen on the spot, silent, with the exception of the pound of Bella's heart. Even Jasper has enough sense to stand still, his eyes burning into me with meaningless threat.

Once I'm sure that there isn't going to be any interference, I lower my head and nudge Emmett's arms away from his face with gentle care. The second they part, one eye cracks open, staring up at me. I hold his gaze, standing over him, my breath hot against his skin. Emmett arches an eyebrow up at me, pausing before his lips curl in a half-smirk.

"You know, it's not very polite to try to tear out my brother's throat. Not the best idea, either."

I breathe out a short breath and lean my head down to Emmett's neck, resting against his chest in relief. He laughs once and ruffles the fur between my ears. "Okay, okay. You're forgiven."

I stay still for a moment, relishing the feel of him so close to me again, before I duck to the side. Emmett hops up onto his feet, running a hand through his hair. I step in place behind him, focusing on the wolves and Cullens, my peripheral vision trained on both for any signs of movement. The two of us stand between our families, tension crackling in the air above our heads. No wolf dares to take a step and each Cullen is dead still, except for the pixie, who flits over to Jasper's side, taking her place in his arms.

Emmett clears his throat, his eyes running over the pack before returning to his family. "I think we need a minute. Alone."

"Emmett—" Esme starts. Her voice is strained with worry.

"Nothing to worry about, Esme," Emmett reassures her. "Just give us a few minutes. It's Eddie's turn to go, anyway." He looks over at Bella, who is white as a sheet, and amends his statement. "Or Carlisle's."

I nod once in agreement, watching the stiff, horrified expressions of the Cullens. After a few second's pause, there isn't any objection, and Emmett pats my shoulder. "C'mon, I won't be long."

Emmett starts for the trees at the opposite end of the clearing, glancing over his shoulder as he waits for me to follow. I can feel the push of the pack mind grow stronger in my mind, but it has no effect. I jog after Emmett, staying close at his heels. As we pass by Jasper, I lurch in his direction, faking a lunge. He leans away slowly, tightening his hold on his mate. His eyes flicker uneasily. I huff and press after Emmett, allowing him to take the lead. Neither of us comments on the stares burning holes in the back of our necks.

The shadows take all the pressure off our shoulders. Emmett drops back to walk beside me, humming to himself. I don't look at him for a long while, focusing on placing my paws down silently. I wait a few minutes, allowing the forest to strip away the remains of the adrenaline, before I turn my gaze into Emmett's own.

He slows, a grin growing on his expression. "That was some crazy shit you pulled out there. You know that, don't you?"

The sound of his voice—deep with amusement and low with his undivided attention—tickles my ears. I willingly give into the warm feeling rising inside of me and bump my shoulder lightly against his in response, nudging the top of his head with my muzzle. No words form in my mind, more because of the scattered order of them than the fact that the heat of my body is preventing any chance of a change.

"Yeah, I thought so." Emmett shakes his head and laughs under his breath. "I'm still working on that. On turning that light on."

A rumble passes through my throat. We've stopped by now and are standing face to face, close enough that the opposite temperature of our bodies sizzle between us. I stopped believing in hope years ago, but the determination in his voice is strong.

"You don't believe me?" he guesses. His eyes search mine for a moment. I turn my ears forward, holding his gaze until he looks away, nodding. "I thought so. I'll show you, eventually."

I blow a breath into his face, earning another grin. I study the happy curve of his lips, knowing that it's sincere. His family may think he's crazy to go out here and talk to a wolf, holding a conversation as if he really does understand everything without any words. As if he doesn't need anything from me; as if he only wants me.

The thought isn't comprehended in my mind. It's marked as impossible, filed away and crammed into the far corners of everything else that's become impossible over the years. But here Emmett is, without any judgment, without any second thoughts, without any questions or anger or requirements. He's only here because I am, and because he wants to be here with me.

We're both wrong. Emmett, wrong in his choice to chase after something that might be meant for him, and me, wrong in every way that this hell has twisted me. Just like two negatives equal a positive, these two wrongs have to make a right.

As the thought strikes me, Emmett reaches in his pocket. "I almost forgot. When you rushed out early, you busted this up."

He puts his hand out in front of him. My eyes study his clenched fist questionably, watching his pale fingers fall open to reveal small scraps of a tiny object in the center of his palm. My stomach drops all over again as my eyes take in the shiny object that is—or has been—my ring. I look up into Emmett's eyes, my ears flattened back to my head. My mind is racing all over again, churning in anger directed toward the monster.

Emmett doesn't react. He shakes his head, smiling slightly. "Hey now, don't worry about it." He shoves his hand back into his pocket and pulls it out again. This time, the ring in his hand is in one piece. It's an identical match to the one that was on my finger. I stare at it, my thoughts slowly working backwards. Emmett only laughs.

"I understand."


	48. Testing Boundaries

_"I just want to take it in_  
 _Even when your fire runs out_  
 _Will you start it up again?"_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Forty Eight

Testing Boundaries

* * *

"You see, whenever you need a snuggle buddy, I'm only a call away."

Emmett laughs lowly, amused by his own statement. I watch as his pale fingers carefully wind a thin slip of paper over the ring from the inside, turning it around and around until there's no way possible for a clawing branch or breath of wind will shake it free. He examines his work smugly as he finishes, nodding in approval before tilting his head slightly to catch my gaze.

My lips curl slightly in a wolfish smirk. I bow my head over his shoulder, feeling the areas where our skin heats on contact. Some sort of foreign emotion—something warm like affection and something thrilling like a surprised jump—swells through me, unable to be contained. Suddenly, I'm deaf to the distant frustrated hisses and uneasy growls and blind to the shower of rain above our bowed heads. Emmett's golden eyes brighten as they pick up on my interest, his lips spreading in a laugh.

"Alright, alright. Next challenge: making sure you don't bust this one up."

Emmett's eyes leave my own, skimming over the white fur along on my back before trailing down to my paws. He nods, his cool body brushing up against my own as he ducks down, falling into a crouch. One big hand closes over the corner of his shirt, tearing off a narrow strip. My eyes linger on the exposed flesh near his hip, studying the fine lines of his figure and the smoothness of his marble skin.

My thoughts are instantly sent toward forbidden territory. His hands brush over my fur, looping the shirt to my ankle before securing it. The heat of my body has risen slightly, even as I pull myself together and Emmett stands again. He doesn't make any comment about the change in my temperature, but his eyes are gleaming even more, as if something else has amused him.

"Anything else?" he asks.

I run my eyes up his body, starting at the tips of his toes and climbing upwards. My gaze stops a few times, pausing longer than necessary. By the time I reach his face, his lips have curved back into a smirk. I blow out a breath, studying his expression closely. The smugness still radiates off every inch of him, although now it's even stronger.

A huff escapes my muzzle. He's playing with me, teasing me as indirectly as he can, testing my boundaries. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of moving close to him again, I lower my head and bump my muzzle against a patch of dirt smudged on his forehead. He chuckles, causing me to press my muzzle against the spot again. When I pull back, there's a streak of brown across his forehead.

Moving backward, I swing my head from side to side. Emmett doesn't seem bothered. He pats his wet hair down with a hand, his lips twitching as if he's struggling not to grin. His head twists to meet my stare.

"So I'm a little less than perfect. You're okay with that, though, aren't you?"

I rumble low in my throat at his statement. His charm is still there, even though the seriousness in his words is masked by his teasing. I give in, coming close to him and bowing my head to touch my forehead to his. His irises fill with the sight of me, a large white wolf with her long, sharp teeth curled back in a strange sort of smile.

Emmett grins widely at the closeness, content with my wordless answer. "Excellent."

He extends a hand toward my face, his fingers skimming my fur. He almost says something, but his attention is arrested by something in the distance. His nostrils flare for a brief moment. I hold completely still, my senses slowly straining outward. It's not a scent or sound or sight that captures my focus, but words from an impatient mind.

 _If you must drool all over each other, can't you at least do it on your_  own  _time?_

The warmth abruptly disappears, sucked away by the irritated sound of Nicole's voice pushing into my head. I clamp my teeth together, tearing my gaze away from Emmett, lifting my head over his shoulder. He glances over, his grin faltering as he takes in the sight of the approaching wolves.

The two of them stalk forward, brown and silver figures pushing through the rain. Jared is just a step ahead, but Nicole hurries along with him, trying to casually gain an extra stride ahead of him. They're shoulder to shoulder, inches apart as if they're trying to appear intimidating. I hold back a snort as Emmett's hand drifts down to the top of my leg, resting there with a hovering tension.

They stop a half a dozen yards away, standing still as they take in the sight of us. Jared nearly manages to hide his disapproval, but Nicole is hostile, her ears set back and her eyes narrowed. She shifts her stance in an attempt to make herself taller, releasing a hot breath as she finds my gaze.

_It's time to go._

My eyes slant. I keep myself positioned directly beside Emmett, ready to jump to his defense at any moment. I return the bitterness of the silver she-wolf with an icy tone.  _That's Sam's decision._ I quickly tack on another statement, flattering her ego. _Princess._

Jared shakes his head, sending a small stream of rain running off the tips of his ears.  _Sam already went ahead_. There's something else behind his words, something that stiffens the fur on his coat, but my mind doesn't take the time to pay attention to it.

 _Such a rush_. My chin rests over Emmett's black hair, slick with rain, my eyes not leaving the steady stares of my pack mates.  _A little action sends you all scurrying away with your tail between your legs. Wow. Really terrifying, the lot of us._

Jared starts to sigh, but Nicole cuts him off with a raise of her lips.  _You don't have to make this difficult, Jordan. Can't you just come on already? It won't make a difference to the leech either way._

My ears flick, dismissing the statement. I pull in a long breath of Emmett's sweet scent, easing the locking of my muscles.  _Emmett. His name is Emmett._

Both of their eyes dart over, taking in Emmett's expression. His mouth shapes into a wide grin, but he doesn't speak. Nicole gives an uneasy snap while Jared's shoulders bunch up defensively. The rain burns against my coat as I slide my head down over Emmett's broad shoulder and across his chest, protecting his heart. My eyes are trained on them, unmoving.

Jared's paws work in the mud for a moment, leaning away as he looks back at me.  _Jordan, we need to go._

Their persistence lights another round of tension. I shake my head slightly, barely blinking.  _You first._

Without the slightest hesitation, Jared takes a backward stride, his brown form starting to blur in the sheets of rain. Nicole remains still in the mud, her white teeth gleaming against the dull colors of the forest.  _If it's going to be such a distraction from your loyalties, maybe we should eliminate the issue completely._

My body is suddenly in motion, brushing past Emmett, moving into a protective stance in front of him. He has enough sense to let me move, but he takes a slow step forward to stand at my flank. Trembles race through my body, my senses sharpened as the predatory defense slowly sets in.  _Hell, why don't you go right on ahead? Try it._

Jared's paws are stepping through the mud in retreat. His voice is louder now, pushing into my own head with strained worry.  _No, we don't need to fight. Nicole, you have to stop._

 _Quiet, Jared,_ Nicole snaps. She casts a look his way before she returns her attention on me, ignoring Emmett completely. Her confidence is tainted by frustration, her body bristling with it.  _Fine. If that's what you want, then . . . fine._

Heat sparks behind my lids at the challenge, sending a wave of red washing across my vision. My eyes are trained on Nicole as she starts to lean forward, pausing for the slightest second before she takes a step forward. I hear the touch of her paw to the ground—the beginning in her advance—and there isn't any holding back.

With a sudden, violent jerk, I knock Emmett back with the force of my strength and weight. I rise up with a fierce howl, standing high on my hind legs as the sound rips through the air. Rain batters at my form, sizzling against the heat as my paws slam down, sending out spurts of mud. My teeth gnash furiously as my eyes pinpoint the silver wolf. I shake and quake, dying to release the fire, but it's strangled by Emmett's presence.

Nicole has frozen as she takes in the sight of me. For a split second, something stronger than frustration flashes in her eyes, but it disappears before I can make any sense of it. My body is refusing to attack, stuck in the wolf but absent of the wolf's need for death. The two of us stand, inches apart, teetering on the edge of attack.

After a few moments, the sound of light footsteps breaks the silence. I don't move my gaze as Emmett moves forward, standing in between Nicole and me. His brow is furrowed as he steps in between us, his head turned toward Nicole. "Hey now, let's all play nice."

I watch as the silver wolf straightens up abruptly, ignoring the annoyance at Emmett's words. She takes advantage of my pause, the icy blue of her eyes jumping over Emmett's shoulder to find me again.  _Well? You're going to allow it to hold you back?_

I give Nicole no response. Instead, I focus on Emmett as he glances back over his shoulder. His expression softens into another dimpled smile. At a short distance, he seems so at ease, but up close, the rain manages to highlight concern in his golden gaze. My heart pounds heavily with the fading adrenaline as I take a step forward, closing the distance. My muzzle nuzzles into Emmett's neck, taking in the smell of him. Almost instantly, my shoulders drop and my muscles still.

Emmett bumps his shoulder into mine. "Go on ahead, Jordan. I know you'll come back for me." He winks, chuckling under his breath at the little joke.

My mouth forms another wolfish smile as I reluctantly pull away, holding Emmett's gaze. I freeze the image of his face—wet with rain yet smooth and bright, dimples and all—and pocket it away in my memory to hold on to later. Emmett raises his hand in a goodbye wave as I slip past him and jog off, heading straight past Nicole and back into the clearing. Nicole's paws squish in a small distance behind me, following without even a short growl.

I rush past Jared without a pause, not even bothering to glance his way. Once I pass, he exchanges a look with Nicole, who stops to stand beside him. Neither of them follow as I lunge up to the hill, climbing it effortlessly. I snort once, not bothering to make a smart ass comment as my speed builds, my legs sure and strong beneath me, carrying me home.

In the back of my thoughts, the attention of another wolf hovers. His temper is cooled off and his thoughts are strangely quiet, as if he's intending to catch up with me but something holds him back. Moments later, my thoughts twist and jumble, once more becoming a thick jungle of nonsense.

In the midst of my tangled thoughts, the monster thrashes, unwilling to be caged any longer.


	49. In the Eye

[ **Warning** : This chapter contains violence that might not be suitable for all readers.]

  
_"The secret side of me, I never let you see_  
I keep it caged but I can't control it  
So stay away from me, the beast is ugly  
I feel the rage and I just can't hold it." - Skillet.

* * *

Chapter Forty Nine

In the Eye

* * *

As dawn creeps in, I find myself at First Beach.

Light has yet to touch the world around me. The beach is empty, accompanied only by an early morning bite, as if there's a strange frost in the air that is refusing to settle. Or maybe that's just me—maybe the heat of my body burns so hot that even the humid air feels like an icy, numbing coat.

Good. Numb is good.

My bare feet don't leave a mark in the sand and pebbles beneath them. They move noiselessly over the ground, carrying me toward the shore. The beach is wet and clumpy, the pebbles small and sharp, but I barely feel any of it. I can only feel the shaking in my core, ripping me apart. My hands shake with the helplessness, dying to claw into my flesh and tear the beast inside of me free. But there isn't any chance of that. The monster is carved into my very being, and by now there is no hope of escaping.

I stop at the edge of the water. Curling waves break around my toes, filling the spaces between them and splashing up against the torn strip of fabric secured to my ankle. The scent of the man—the one thing holding me together long enough to get here—has faded. There is nothing to hold on to. There's only everything to strip away.

In one fluid movement, I yank my shirt over my head and surrender it to the breeze, letting a gust of wind carry it away. I drop the rest of my clothes to the sand, leaving only the tie around my ankle. Even now, on the very edge of my sanity, it holds somehow manages to hold some small bit of significance.

Bare but not exposed, I continue forward without even a glance over my shoulder. My gaze sets on the surface of the black water. The water rises around my body, swallowing me further with each stride, until I am up to my hips in what should be a cool relief.

I should feel many things: wariness because I'm an open target; guilt, because I shouldn't have lashed out; pain, because the suffering of the monster is suffering for my own; pity, because I have allowed a man to chase me, to believe that he can really heal this monster like she is only a disease; like he truly believes he can separate the wolf from my body.

Despite this, I feel almost nothing. Almost. Because through all the years, the anger—the monster's fuel—never leaves. And now, here it is, edging close to its breaking point. Enough of holding it in. It has to be let out, even if only temporarily, and it has to be let out  _now_.

With a soft sigh, I tilt my head back. The battering rain drowns out everything else, leaving me in a curtain of wetness. The drops race through my thick hair, sliding along my scalp and tickling the ends. My mind pours out everything it knows and replaces with the fire that thumps through my veins, a thousand beats a second. A low moan catches in my throat at the blaze, but I swallow it back. There's no time to get distracted. I have to focus. Focus on the wolf, keeping her under some level of my control.

My nails dig in my palms, my hands shivering by my hips. I part my lips and breathe in a drop of rain, letting it slide down my throat. The wetness of it clears my lungs, allowing me to taste the scents of the air. The scents of something alive.

Suddenly, my eyes snap open and my head twists back over my shoulder. I growl lowly, my eyes scanning the bank. I have an audience.

A flash of white blurs along the shore. My eyes follow the movement and land on a figure. I turn, leaning forward into a defensive stance. My teeth bare and a growl splits through my teeth.

The flash has come from a girl who is standing on the water's edge. She's strangely familiar: a petite figure, small hands, and night-black wave of hair. She is eerily still as she stares me down, her large, round eyes unmoving. Moments tick by, and then finally, she speaks in a faint voice, but her mouth doesn't move.

"The pretty roses don't go with dead roses, Jordan Uley. Do the dead roses only smother the pretty ones? Or are you something else? You're like a weed, aren't you? You'll kill off the whole garden."

As she speaks, she gives me a cold, glittering smile that sets my fire raging impossibly hotter. Her skin doesn't wrinkle—it stays smooth as marble. This is wrong. Very wrong. I lift my gaze to her eyes and instantly, my muscles freeze. Her irises aren't brown anymore. They're a bright, gleaming red.

Bloodsucker red.

All thought leaves my brain. Empty of everything, I finally fall to pieces. I melt out of my human skin, sending a blast of salty water rushing toward the sand. I follow it, striding through the waves until my feet hit the sloppy backwash of the ocean. Without thinking, my teeth shoot forward wildly, finding the thin, dense coat of hair covering the girl's scalp.

Blood wells up from her skin as the tips of my teeth shave through her tough flesh. Her limbs kick in a frantic attempt of escape, but I don't budge. My head jerks roughly as my muzzle presses against her forehead, skin warm and wet with a thick crimson liquid. A bone cracks, emitting a cry, but the sound is drowned out by the monster's roar pounding in my eardrums.

Hate crashes through my veins, a strike of lightning to my bloodstream. This thing has something that the monster doesn't—life. The wolf, she has a body, but she has to share a life. And she can't stand to allow life to live in another monster while she has none.

Minutes pass without change. The soundless struggle below me is meaningless as salt tangs my nostrils and the scent of coming death grows heavy in my nostrils. Bones crush under the force of my grinding jaws; chunks of limp flesh slide down my open throat. Even as the body below me goes slack, I stand firm.

It isn't until the stink of death reeks in the air that I finally stop. Two wide, round eyes stare up at me, blotted out by a pool of red death. It isn't over yet—she will suffer until death gradually eases her into its hold.

The monster likes that. Death is too gracious; the freedom that comes with the release is not as effective as the pain of being alive.

My paws press on the sand as I go, leaving light prints on the surface. Lightning cracks in the sky, followed by a booming crash of thunder. I press forward without a pause, disappearing into the night as a white ghost; here, but not truly real, with the blood of another on my skin.

*Meanwhile*

_I'll crash at Kim's. Later, boss and company._

In moments, Jared's mind has disappeared, leaving the remaining wolves—heavy-eyed and weary-legged—to stand alone on the steep slope. Jacob is well aware of the exhaustion fogging his brain, but he forces his eyes to stay peeled and his ears alert. The hot breath of the silver she-wolf on his side sends goose bumps rising on his skin, prickling it with unease.

His eyes dart around, searching for escape. They land on the bulk of the black wolf as he leans his weight on to a wide maple, his lids half-closed and his jaws parted in pants. Jacob's ears press flat as he takes a slow step forward, his paws snapping on a branch.

_You okay, Sam?_

The black wolf's head rolls to the side, scraping against the eyes turn to the side as a rumble vibrates in his chest, a trapped groan stuck in his lungs.  _I can't do this anymore. I can't do it._

 _Can't?_ Jacob shifts his weight to the right, crackling the underbrush. _Can't what? You've been acting really weird lately, Sam._

 _You need sleep,_  Nicole cuts in. Her attention centers on Jacob again, even as she turns to trot in a wide circle around the two of them. _Both of you do._

 _No._ Sam huffs out a breath, pushing off the tree. He wavers on his feet, his head hung toward the ground. His mind flashes with images of the pack, their heads raised to him expectantly. Another flurry of thoughts swims beneath the image, but he shoves them away with another loud thought. _Not this. I can't anymore. Too much._

A crushing weight presses at Sam's mind, projecting outward as he tries desperately to release it. Jacob winces as a fraction of it is pushed his way, directed into his head. He shakes his head, the thick fur on his neck swinging with the movement.  _What the hell are you trying to say? Don't tell me you're going suicidal just because of the—_

 _Why would you think of doing that?_ Nicole's eyes narrow as she slinks around the corner, her glacial stare shooting daggers at Sam. _You have nothing to fret over. You're doing fine._

The black form moves across the ground sluggishly, his mind deep in the depths of thought. Too deep to pay any attention to the minds pressuring him as he pushes farther into the forest. _Maybe it'll be a fight. Or maybe I'll just . . . just give it away. I can't do this anymore. Too much._

Jacob freezes as realization sinks in. He shakes his head again, this time furiously, his teeth bared at Sam.  _You're going to give up on the pack? Let us all tear at each other just for . . . for leadership? What's going on, Sam? Why would . . . why?_

By now, the black wolf has disappeared into the brush, leaving the two other wolves staring after him, frazzled. The space inside his skull is a battlefield cracked in two, suffering under the strain of his stress. Sam struggles, but the pressure doesn't lighten. All of it, all that's happening at once, is too much. He doesn't know what to do, so he grabs the first solution that presents itself: hand down his crown.

His mind is exiting quickly as the wolf falls away from him. He releases one final thought before his mind silences.  _Would either of you mind running a patrol?_

There isn't any patience for response. A heartbeat later, the third mind is gone, leaving the two of them with no choice. Jacob gives a rough growl, cursing Sam mentally before he swings around and lunges for the brush, heading out for the first place that comes to mind.

Footfalls sound behind him, echoing his own. Jacob wants to be alone to clear his head and make sense of all the strange events of the night, but his pursuer has no intention of granting him privacy. Her silver fur flashes in the dim light between the trees, like a fish in a stream.

_He wasn't asking. It was an order._

The know-it-all edge to Nicole's thought nags at Jacob, but his frustration overrides it. He bobs his head, his legs stretching out before him as he rushes through the forest. There aren't any scents of leech—there rarely ever is anymore. A patrol is nothing more than an excuse to stretch their ready muscles and plow through the thickets. It seems more like acting as a tractor than a killing machine anymore, to Jacob.

And to make it ever more enjoyable, he's been partnered with Nicole. There isn't any friendship between them now. There hasn't been, since Bella came parading back into the picture. It almost seems like a bad thing to Jacob, but he doesn't see the harm in it. Nicole has grown to resent him—his time with Bella has pulled him away. His love for her has blossomed into something more than he and Nicole ever shared.

A strip of dull light is visible over the sky, peeking out over the height of a tree that has fallen to lean on the shoulder of another. Jacob coils back as he nears the log before throwing himself into the air, his body sailing clean over the tree as he lands in a patch of cleared dirt. In that same moment, Nicole sprints in from the opposite side, her body grazing against his as she rockets past. Jacob shudders once again at the closeness, his heart pumping adrenaline. Nicole gives a quiet, barking laugh, her mind filling with teases for his distracted mind. With a growl, Jacob shoots off after her, his thoughts displaying only the paint of the forest.

As the two of them charge through the brush once more, the wind changes. The direction turns to blow straight into Jacob's face, and with it comes a variety of new scents. Some sweet, some tangy, some fresh. His muzzle points up to suck them in, sifting through them for anything suspicious. Finding no stink of leech, he almost dismisses the smell without a second thought, but he stops short as Nicole gives a sharp bark of alarm.

Jacob is bathed in a sea of cold. He pushes into Nicole's thoughts, dipping into her thoughts, and freezes. Through her nostrils, he can taste the defined tang that he has passed over. The tang of blood, prominent in the air and fresh enough that it's even stronger than the simple scent of rain.

_Jacob—_

_Stay back,_  Jacob snaps. He surges forward, racing past Nicole and toward the tree line. Suddenly, he's in human form without any conscious decision to phase, stumbling into his cutoffs as he breaks into the trees. His strides slow as his eyes sweep the beach. His stomach drops.

Jacob freezes, one bare foot pushing deep into the sand as his movement stops. His eyes lock on the sight before him, burning as he forgets how to blink. Nicole jogs up behind him, abruptly stopping inches behind him. She gasps loudly as she too sets her eyes on the source of the blood.

A pile of flesh lay in a motionless heap, swaying ever so slightly against the stretching tide. Squinting, Jacob can tell that it's an animal of some sort, mangled beyond recognition. Raw guts are scattered over the sand in a small pool of flowing, sticky blood. Its limbs are sprawled awkwardly, and it lay flat on its side. The skin on the animal's body is stripped down to white bone, its muscle torn and cut. The animal is shredded and torn, yet somehow, atrociously and disgustingly in one piece. Jacob's eyes trail over it in disbelief, landing on a shape that might pass for a head.

Brownish fur, rounded nose, long legs. Much too big for a dog. Too small to be a bear. No antlers.

Jacob's stomach flips and his hands shake. It's a small doe, barely big enough to pass for an adult. His eyes fix on the head of the animal, knowing that no predator could have possibly wasted such a prized catch. He swallows hard, and then stops, his saliva stuck halfway down his throat, caught by a movement—a blink of an eye. Of the doe's eye, looking right at him.

She's still alive.

Taking a slow step forward, Jacob assesses her expression. Blood trickles out of her nose, a reaction to the physical trauma. Her liquid black eye rolls in the direction of Jacob as he approach, piercing into his soul, but no sound comes out. The doe's silence masks her terror, and somehow, that makes everything ten times as horrifying.

Nicole's eyes are burning into the back of his neck, heavy like a weight of iron dropped right on the peak of his spine. Swallowing back the bile in his throat, Jacob pulls his brows together and takes a reversing stride, backing up until he's a good ten yards away. He crouches, his eyes not leaving the filthy body as his fingers slide across the surface of sand.

His hand touches the edge of a stick that has been spat out by the rolling waves and stuck deep into the ground. He closes his fingers around it, feeling his shakes tremble the branch. He drags the stick out, inch by inch, before he steps forward, approaching the deer once more.

His hot skin brushes against Nicole's. Her eyes drop from the side of his face, taking in the sharp end of the branch. She raises a hand, placing it over her mouth. Jacob feels her silent disgust, but he doesn't react to it as he closes the distance between himself and the doe.

Standing over the deer, Jacob quivers. Not a fearful sort of shaking, but one of sympathy for the hurt of taking life an innocent creature's life. The doe's eye watches him, tolerant and patient, until finally, Jacob sucks a breath through his teeth and brings the sharp point straight through a pace in the deer's exposed ribs.

Once.

Twice.

The doe gives a small, weak kick, her bottom jaw trembling with the memory of a cry, but there isn't any air in her punctured lungs. She blinks once more before going limp in the sand.

Dead.

An eon of silence follows the action, hanging over the world around them in a thick tension. Blood drips off the end of the stick, dripping on the doe's body. Jacob gulps hard, trying to ride the acidic taste in his mouth, but his throat is dry. His stomach heaves, three dry lurches, as he chokes on his breath. Behind him, Nicole's quick breathing stutters, ending the quiet.

Eventually, Jacob's fingers open, dropping the stick to the sand. He swallows again before speaking, his eyes averted from the limp body beneath him. "We. . . We should probably. . ."

With a slow nod, Nicole drops down, her hands scooping into the soft earth, dropping a small mound of dirt on the ground beside her. She repeats the motions, her movements slowed with shock. Jacob's feet stay planted for a long moment, frozen, before he gradually lowers himself on to his knees, turns, and begins to dig out handful after handful of sand.

The two of them make steady progress. Dawn eventually rises, bathing the world around them in a gentle grey. Jacob is still wired, every muscle stiff and aching, as he smooths his hand over the packed surface of the grave. His fingers curl in at the tips ever so slightly, leaving light tracks behind them.

"Who was it?"

Jacob doesn't answer. Instead, his eyes travel over the ground, moving toward the tumble of brush gathered near the tree line. He's already seen it, while he dug away at the wet earth.

A single white piece of fur, trapped in the branches and shivering in the wind.

Nicole turns her head to glance over her shoulder. Jacob's eyes dart back to the ground, suddenly very interested in the three parallel lines dragged over the sand. Moments drag by before Nicole speaks again, this time with a shake in her voice.

"Why?" Nicole's gaze falls on the top of Jacob's bent head. "What . . . happened to her?"

 _She's lost her mind._ Jacob opens his mouth, the words ready on his tongue, but then abruptly shuts it. He shakes his head once, his hands fisting by his sides.

Nicole picks up on his hesitation, filling his pause with more external thoughts. "I can't believe. . . Well, I  _knew_  she would be, but . . . I can't. . ."

Senseless guilt tugs at Jacob's heartstrings, but he pushes the feeling away with a thoughtless reply, speaking without looking up. "She'll come around"

"You really think so?" Nicole fires back. "She's nuts, Jacob. Nuts! All this blood and killing, and the wild temper, and she used to be so . . . so _small_ , and now. . . She even imprinted on a leech. A l _eech_! What kind of  _sane_  person ever gets involved with—much less imprinted on—a freaking _leech_?!"

The venom in Nicole's tone stings Jacob like a shot injected into his chest. His mind flickers to the fair-skinned, brown-eyed girl he's always known—the girl he's always loved. Will he still be sane after she is a leech? Her softness replaced by a marble hardness that can only be melted away from her? She'll be too lethal, too perfect, with eyes burning red. A lump grows in Jacob's throat as he pictures himself still there, still chasing her, even after she willingly squashes all of his efforts under her foot and ends everything.

The lump isn't there because of the worry, though. The lump settling in this throat is a reactant to the emotion burned into him. Love.

He has to be asleep. Jacob is overwhelmingly certain that he's trapped in a nightmare, falling and falling and falling, just waiting to hit the ground. It's been years, and he still has yet to hit the ground, but the terror of the ending result is still there.

Jacob's deep-set eyes flicker upward as he looks around, trying to banish the thoughts of despair from his mind. Nicole has gone still. Her hands are resting in place, her eyes downcast on the sand buried deep in her nails.

"The tribe comes first," she continues, her voice a gentle whisper on the warm breeze. "If she makes things harder on us, as a threat. We'll have to. . . She'll be just like a. . ."

Nicole trails off, struggling for words. Jacob flinches, raking a hand through his cropped hair. "We can make it work."

He grimaces, hearing the doubt in his own voice. An anchor has planted itself in his chest, weighing him down with guilt. The wind rustles the forest, shaking the silence creeping between them once more. As Nicole starts to speak again, Jacob lowers his eyes, picking out the darker grains of sand strewn across the ground below.

"I just want my sister back. I know I'm harsh, but I'm just trying to help. Sam's always so nice, and look what happened. And now, I can't be nice, I can't be mean, I can't . . . I-I don't know anymore, Jacob. I just don't know what to do."

Jacob, startled by the sudden confession, becomes motionless. His eyes catch a small glittering movement: hot tears dribbling on to the sand. Suddenly, he just can't help himself.

One trembling russet hand stretches over the ocean of distance between them and breaks it as Jacob's fingers wrap over Nicole's securely. It's an innocent gesture—just a comfort. But in that very same moment, Nicole glances up, and Jacob intercepts the look.

In that instant, everything changes.

Icy irises shimmer behind the tears brimming out of Nicole's eyes. Jacob stares, feeling himself sinking slowly but surely, disappearing in the warm depths. His breath catches, his arm stiffening and his muscles locking as his life leaves him for a split second. The world tilts, his soul bonding and twisting with another.

When it's over, nothing quiets. The world around him is bright, alive, and burning with a new reality. Jacob's knees quiver as he stares, unable to look away from her. He isn't looking at Nicole Uley—his best friend. He's looking at his world, and the world is reflecting an identical look.

This can't be real. He swore he wouldn't let this happen to him. Not since that girl . . . not since her, that one . . . girl.

Through the haze in his mind, Jacob ticks the passing seconds away.

_Seven . . . eight. . . nine . . . ten._

When Nicole doesn't look away, Jacob is sure he isn't dreaming anymore.


	50. Making Medicine

[ **Warning** : This chapter contains content that might not be suitable for all readers.]

_"After tonight,_   
_who knows where we'll be tomorrow_   
_what if we're never here again?_

_After tonight_   
_This will be a lifetime ago_   
_so let's stay up until the sky bleeds red._

_And we'll stop stop stop the world from moving_   
_Stop stop stop the clocks from turning_   
_Stop this night from fading away_

_This time is ours_   
_If I could hold this moment in my hands_   
_I'd stop the world from moving  
_ _I'd stop the clocks from turning_

_This time is ours_  
 _inside a frozen memory of us_  
 _And we are motionless, motionless."_  - The Bravery.

* * *

Chapter Fifty

Making Medicine

* * *

*Jordan*

At some point, my eyes part, opening up to the bleak sky above. I'm slumped beneath a large pine, my back pressing into prickly branches. The fallen needles press into my palms and knees, rubbing against my skin smeared with crimson. I don't know how I got here, or why the hell I'm human and naked, but I don't have the brainpower to waste time working through any mysteries.

I huff and snarl at the effort it takes to tip my body forward and situate myself in a crouch. I teeter, unbalanced for a moment, before settling in place. The world around me shimmers, spinning around and around before I gradually come to.

I'm surrounded on all sides. Pine trees shoot toward the sky, their needles jabbing against my back as the wind shakes the branches. Night has fallen, meaning I've been passed out on the forest for a while now. Lovely.

My senses roam, combing over every inch of forest. They pass through the insignificant—a murky puddle of rainwater; a cluster of leaves pressed into the mud; the sway of the pine tree's branches—and search for any sign of an unwanted presence. My dark eyes, burning with the lack of use, train on the dirty skin of my bare feet.

After moments of nothing, my hearing pricks attentively. A caw—a sharp call of a bird from the branches—rings out over my head. My dark eyes flicker upward, sifting through the branches of the pines. Seated high up on a branch is the ruffled shape of a bird, its black body a blotch of color against the colorless pine washed grey in the dull moonlight.

I flash my teeth at the bird. Its head tilts, its beady black eye twitching as it settles on me. The bird cries out again, its wings fluttering as it hops down a level. Tiny feet clamp down on a branch while the same beady eye stares glassily at me, clouded with what seems like amusement. The stupid thing squawks when I growl, the sound mimicked laughter in my ears.

As the bird hops about, I drop into a crouch, my thighs slightly bent as I lower my body. One of my hands slips beneath the layer of needles, my fingers crawling along the ground. The bird flaps its wings, a flurry of movement in the still night. My fingers pause as they touch the rough surface of a small pebble buried in the mass of needles. I stare the bird down, holding its attentive glare. Moments pass, the silence filled by the hum of forest life. It almost seems as if the bird has finally shut up. But then, just as my fingers start to loosen, the bird screeches out again. Its voice sizzles in my eardrums, triggering my reaction without any thought.

My shoulder rolls as my arm snaps forward, sending a pile of needles flying every which way. My fingers release the pebble. It zips through the air, aimed directly at the bird. Its beady eye barely has time to blink as the pebble drives into the side of its small face. Frightened, the bird throws open its wings, but it never has a chance to enter the sky.

With a spurt of blood, the body of the bird tumbles down through the branches. It lands beside my ankle with a thud, the beak still gawking. In the place of the bird's shining black eye is a bloody hole filled by the small pebble.

Hilarious.

I tear my gaze away from the bird, spinning around and sprinting through the dark forest. The movement is sudden, causing blood to shoot through my veins at a rapid pace, spiked with adrenaline. I know better than to stay out in the forest, naked, bloody, and suspiciously alone. My legs carry me, and even though I'm subconsciously following an invisible path, I'm sure that my legs are sturdy and strong beneath me; they won't drop me.

After minutes of sprinting, lunging, and tearing my way straight through the forest, I break through the trees. Standing before a small hill, my eyes take in the familiar sight of the house before me. The white paint is peeling, beaten down by the dreary weather, the chimney has long since been retired, and the lawn needs a good mow.

I clear the porch in a single stride, my hand immediately reaching and catching the knob, pulling the door open with a soft creak. I slip through the small opening, careful not to allow any of the humid air to spill into the house as I click the door shut behind me. The house is peaceful, the quiet broken only by two patterns of light, feminine breathing and one obnoxious snore.

My mind rejects any reaction to the others inhabiting the house—they are no threat to me. With another graceful lunge, I noiselessly dart up the stairs and into a long, dark hallway. My footsteps are silent as I pass through the doorways of the occupied rooms, even as I catch glimpses of heads facing my direction and mouths slacked open. The instinctual sensation of my presence alone could interrupt their slumber and cause them to wake, but I don't bother to fret over any precautions.

The bathroom is small, cramped, and bright. I have to use every fraction of willpower left in my head to step in and shut the door behind me. Prickles run down my back at the soft thud of the shutting door. I'm trapped, trapped and suffocating in an enclosure. I'm. . .

"Get a grip, damn it," I whisper hotly to myself.

My hands clamp on the corners of the counter, the edges pressing into my palm. My eyes flicker over the white, smooth surface of the sink. My lip curls back, sneering at my faceless reflection. I spit over the silver drain. The saliva drools over the sides, mixed with blood.

Blood. I lift my hands over the sink, flipping them over to lift the palms up. Crimson stains my skin, and as my fingers curl in, I see it caked beneath my nails, too. I bare my teeth in a breathless snarl, nudging the water on. I rub my hands feverishly beneath the cool liquid, watching the rusty-colored water splash around the bowl as it drains away. I scrape and scrub until my skin feels raw before lowering my head and filling my mouth full of tap water, swishing the bitter wetness around in my mouth before spewing it into the sink and turning off the nozzle. I breathe deeply as the rush of water ends, trickling three final drops before running dry.

_Focus._  I drag both hands through my tumble of black hair, from the beginning of my scalp all the way down to the peak of my spine. The motion is caught in the mirror, distracting my gaze. I glance up, staring back at a woman, so familiar yet such a stranger. Her clothes are tight and clingy, torn into large tears and splattered with mud. I half-expect to see the woman portrayed as a short girl, drowning in an avalanche of emotions and poisoned by fear. But that girl is long gone, and in her place is the definition of angry. The monster within her doesn't show—it has shrunk away, now satisfied by the blood on the woman's hands, leaving an empty shell of a nameless woman and an ocean of anger in its retreat.

Sickened, I yank the back of my hand across my mouth and let out a puff of heated air, causing the woman in the glass to disappear beneath a cloud of foggy breath.

As I twist around to leave, I pause, my eyes attracted to a shiny glint of color. I reach down, breaking the thin thread of fabric around my ankle with a simple tug of my finger. I collect the engagement ring in my fingers, examining it carefully. It's barely recognizable beneath the caked layer of mud and blood, but the little sucker has managed to survive after all.

My fingers close around the slip of paper wound around the ring, peeling it away and tossing it onto the counter. I run warm water over the material, letting it eat away at the muck until the shiny golden skin is gleaming once more. My eyes take in the glowing diamond, flawless and extremely expensive looking. It might be fancy, but it's not unbreakable—I could easily crush it between two fingers and run, losing myself again in some idiotic act of selfless heroism, forgetting his name in a matter of years.

I shake my head at the thought, growling under my breath. I set the ring on the counter and grab the doorknob, ripping it open in a rush to escape the closed-in room. At the last moment, I pivot back and snatch the ring, using my elbow to flick off the yellow light as I duck back into the empty hall.

My room is unchanged. The layer of dust clinging to the corners and the crumpled sheets of the bed display a lack of attention. The dresser is full of clothes many sizes too small; the window still has a precautionary lock latched onto the bottom. This room can barely be remembered as my own—this house is not much of a home. I can't remember the last time I felt welcome here, in what has been the place where I've grown and lived.

I fall back onto the crumpled sheets of the bed, my long legs draped over the other side and my head sinking into a misused pillow. The air swirls with particles of dust that are thrown up by the sudden movement, barely visible against the solid black of night. I release a heavy breath as I drop my gaze to my hands, placed on the flat surface of my stomach as I flip the ring over and over in an endless cycle. My eyes stare at the empty circle, imagining the ring fitted nicely on my finger, hidden by the strong grasp of two ice-cold hands—held by my only true relief.

He isn't here right now. My relief is far, far away, miles and miles of forest stretched between us. I can only pretend that Emmett is with me, my body curled into his own, his breath sweet on the top of my head as his scent eases me into something that might be close to peace. I close my eyes and nearly feel him—nearly feel the sensation of his presence that raises the thin hairs on my arms—but I know better. I'm keeping myself here as the monster struggles to regain its control. Here, where he can't reach me; where he won't be safe.

The battle in my skull is wearing me down. I hiss at the feeling, my chest rising and falling as I let out an exasperated huff. My toes curl against the cold wooden floor of my room as I push myself into the scratchy mattress of my bed, staying completely still until the exhaustion closes in and pulls me under.

()()()

I'm floating. I don't sleep; I float, hovering above slumber while trapped beneath some sort of hazy unawareness. The heat of my body is enough to make me melt—my skin is clammy, covered in beads of sweat—and my muscles are tight enough that I feel like I've turned to stone. My mind is plagued with thoughts of buttery golden eyes and sweet kisses swelling against the bombs of doubt exploding in my brain. Still, my eyes remained closed, my lungs expanding and contracting with each steady breath.

_Knock._

_Knock, knock._

_Knock._

My eyes squeeze as my ears pick up on the pattering sound of knuckles hitting wood. I clench my jaw, feeling it pop out as I rise into a sitting position, my hair tumbling over my shoulders. My vision is sharp and clear when my eyes open, trained on the closed wooden door. The knob trembles as it's shaken by another round of knocks before the door creaks, slowly easing open.

His musky scent gives him away before he even comes in, sending my nostrils flaring and my fingers curling into my palms.

"Order for Sleeping Beauty?"

"Don't gotta waste your breath, Paul," I mutter. "I might not bite."

There's a moments pause. Then, Paul slowly pushes the door the rest of the way open, his head bowed to avoid hitting the top. His black hair shines with rain that drips off the ends, sliding over his broad shoulders and down his bare chest. He leans into the room carefully, his lips forming a wary smile as it takes in the sight of me.

"I'm supposed to give you this," he says tentatively. His arm curves around the door, revealing the bagel clutched firmly in his hand. It's huge, sloppily filled with egg, ham, and bits of other veggies that have been slathered with a heavy layer of mayo.

I snort at the sight of it, rocking forward to pull the food from his hand. As I drop back onto my knees, I take a bite from the bagel, chewing thoughtfully. "Well done—I can't even taste the poison."

Paul's mouth twitches again. His massive figure slumps against the doorway, relaxing into it. "Figured you'd . . . like it enough without poison."

"Mmm. Very thoughtful." I slide onto my feet as I finish the bagel, swallowing down the lump of chewed food in a single gulp. I brush my hands off on my thighs, allowing crumbs to scatter over the floor. "Nothing says sorry like breakfast in bed."

My words catch him by surprise. Paul's body goes stiff, his eyes flickering over to the window as my gaze travels across his expression expectantly. I can see through him like a shallow pool of water—if someone is going to place food in Paul's hands, it would be gone in moments; he wouldn't ever bother to do something like this, especially if he's pissed. I know him.

He opens his mouth, protest hesitating on his tongue, before he quickly snaps it shut. He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the floor as a smile creeps onto his face.

"Yeah. Guess so."

A silence settles between us. There's still a gaping space carved out by the weeks of hushed conflict, even though he's taken a step forward in making it smaller. I'm not bothered by the silence, but Paul is clearly uneasy. He shifts his weight to his other foot, his big hands sliding in his pockets. My eyes don't leave his expression, even as he casually steals a few glances my way.

Something is different about Paul. His brow isn't casting angry shadows into his irises and his posture isn't as cockily stiff and tall. They're subtle differences, but big enough that I can catch every one of them. Even though I can sense that he's changed, I don't bother bringing any of it up.

"You've wanted to talk to me before, haven't you, Paul?" I begin smoothly. I pause, waiting until his dark gaze meets mine, narrowed in confusion, before continuing. "After we met with the Cullen leeches."

Paul nods curtly. "I was gonna che—" he cuts off, clearing his throat and averting his eyes. "I was gonna . . . gonna end up bumping into you, so I. . ." Paul frowns, his brow furrowing. "So I noticed you."

I nod slowly, practically smelling the unease that radiates off of him. "That explains why you came over here to give me an apology gift."

Paul swallows hard, his frustration written plainly across his face. His eyes harden as he stares at the floor, taking time to think before he speaks. "Sam sent me over to inform you of a few things."

The tension blasts away from Paul and through me, immediately setting me on edge. My eyes narrow into suspicious slits. I lean forward slightly, focusing on Paul's expression. "About?"

Sucking in a deep breath, Paul rubs the back of his neck and looks back up at me, his brown eyes troubled. "Sam's giving up his place as alpha."

My brows shoot up. There's a faint ring in my ears as my veins start to pound, my senses sharpening as every ounce of my attention zeros in on Paul. "What the hell are you trying to say?"

"You heard me," Paul grumbles. He leans back slightly, unnerved. The icy gleam glazed over my dark eyes reflects in his irises.

"No shit." My teeth click as they snap down together impatiently. "Sam's not a wuss—he wouldn't do that for no damn reason."

Paul's eyes trace my movements as I begin to pace heatedly across my room, back and forth, back and forth. He shrugs his shoulders, folding his arms tight to his chest. "I dunno. He had a breakdown or something; he said he just can't take it anymore." His gaze grows heavy with an unspoken emotion.

I raise a hand as I turn to face him, closing the distance between us in a few brief strides, the flurry of my rapid thoughts bursting into a storm. We're only inches apart, the heat of our bodies sparking with our tempers. My knuckles twist against the fabric of his shirt, pressing hard into his chest. "Don't even try to say it's my damn fault, Lahote. He has shit to get together, but that doesn't mean I'm the problem screwing up his sorry ass."

Paul's arms unfold as he throws his hands up defensively, his expression clouding over with confusion. "Hey, it isn't my fault either! I never said it was your fault, I. . ." He shakes his head, blowing out a loud breath. "I don't know, Jordan. I don't know."

I gawk at him for a long moment, numbed by the rising fury. A moment later, I shake my head and return to my pacing, focusing my gaze on the smooth pattern of the shiny wooden floor. "Who's alpha, then?" I already anticipate the answer, but his name doesn't come off my tongue.

"For now, Sam. He hasn't made anything official. _Yet_." His eyes travel down to the floor, watching my footsteps as he gradually relaxes into the doorframe. "S'not gonna be just handed off. Sam's saying something about a fight, y'know, like they do in the ancient tribes. Last man standing gets the crown."

With each word, my lips curve further and further into a smile. I twist around and head to the window, staring down at the wet grass, cracking my knuckles. "And here I've been told violence is never the answer."

Paul chuckles shortly. "I never knew you actually believed in that one, Jord," he mutters.

My lips spread into a grin as I turn my head back over my shoulder. "Like hell I do. But if Sam's provoking a bloodbath, he can't expect it to be pretty."

Paul nods, holding my gaze. "It won't be, but it can't last long. We're designed to fight and kill vampires, not each other."

I work my jaw for a moment. "I wouldn't bet on that."

"If you say so." Paul hesitates before stretching out his hand, offering it to me. "May the best wolf win?"

I lower my gaze to his extended hand before grabbing it firmly with my own. My eyes don't leave his as I shake it once. "Oh, she will."

Paul chuckles and drops his hand. He glances around, his expression shifting into another emotion. His eyes are bright when he looks back at me. "That's not all."

I snort, sliding a hand through my hair. "Spit it out."

Grinning, Paul straightens up. He measures my expression with bright eyes before speaking in a smug tone, as if he's already expecting some sort of interesting reaction. "Jacob Black has stolen your sister away. I guess they're in some heavy duty romance now. I don't know exactly what it is, but it involves a lot of mushy-gushy crap."

I stare at Paul's face for a long moment, my mind wheeling, before slowly, the meaning of what he's saying dawns on me. I shake my head, laughing once. "Poor guy has no clue what he's in for," I say, before adding in a mutter, "Gonna kick both their asses 'till they bleed."

Paul starts to laugh with me, but stops short as I mutter. "What was that?"

I dismiss the question with a wave of my hand, letting out a long breath. "Any other scandals?"

"Not that I can think of." Paul takes a half step backwards, suddenly anxious. "But, uh, a bunch of the pack is meeting up at the cliffs. Sam's giving the pack a whole day off before the big day." He angles his body to leave, swinging his arm. "Coming along?"

His words instantly strike a strange sort of suspicion in me; something I know better than to question. I shake my head, returning my stare to the window. "Not for any good reason."

In the corner of my eye, I catch the flicker of relief that crosses over Paul's expression. "Alright, Jord." He retreats into the hall. "I'll see you around."

I listen as Paul thumps down the stairs, grumbling under his breath until he reaches the door. It swings open just wide enough for Paul to trudge through before slamming shut with a loud bang. The moment the lock clicks, I'm in motion.

Slipping down the hall, I shoulder through the door to Sam's room, stepping around scattered books, remotes, and extra pillows and yanking the cordless phone off the end table. I swivel back around in record speed, hurrying down the hall and into the bathroom. My eyes instantly shoot toward the counter, searching but not finding.

"Shit!" I growl.

I'm about to slip back into my room and tear through the sheets when a spot of color catches my eye. The tension in my body eases some as I peel the slip of paper away from the corner of the counter where it's managed to wedge itself. I unfold it carefully with my thumb, squinting to make out the digits scrawled neatly beneath the splatter of crusted blood. My fingers punch in the numbers as I read them before hitting 'talk.'

I lean back as I raise the phone to my ear, listening to each long, irritating ring. The sounds buzz in my ear, sending jitters through me. I drum my fingers on the countertop, waiting, my hand trembling slightly with the suspense. On the third ring, I feel like I'm about to explode, but then the ringing is abruptly ended by a voice.

"Forks Strip Club, may I help you?"

At the mere sound of his voice, I'm flooded with a surge of energy that sends my heart racing and my mouth breaking out into a full grin. My shoulders drop slightly, my body relaxing against the counter. I speak smoothly, all of the earlier traces of frustration and tension melted away.

"I'll take a large, with a side of fries."

A muffled laugh echoes through the phone. "Hmm, I'm sorry. We only serve the delightfully delicious Emmett Cullen. Will that be alright, ma'am?"

"Perfect, actually. Thank you, kind sir."

"One moment please." There's a pause, although my ears can still hear the slight drag of Emmett's unnecessary breathing, before he speaks again. "Why hello, beautiful."

I laugh, running my fingers through the tangle of my hair. "Hey, Emmett," I murmur.

"Something up? Or are you dying of despair every moment we spend apart?"

"I was actually just looking for a visit to the strip club," I joke. "Wrong number, but what a coincidence."

"Oh, were you now?" Emmett snickers into the phone. "No need to look, babe—I deliver."

The smile disappears, replaced by a frown. "You're nuts if you're thinking about coming over here. You'll be shredded in minutes."

"I'd find a way," he reasons. "I wouldn't be missed, 'cause there's a little bit of a scene going on over here. You know, your sister has a bite too."

"Is that so?" My fingers curl in at the thought of what I could have missed.

"I'd say so. Bella went over to your reservation to visit Black earlier and got a hell of a surprise. Ran into something other than a casual game of cards, I bet," Emmett muses. "And it didn't go well from there."

I'm silent for a moment, my lips slowly twisting into a smirk. "Karma's a bitch."

Emmett's infectious laughter booms into the phone. "Damn right it is!" There's a pause as his laughter fades, followed by a faint shuffle. "Shit, I gotta get that. I'll see you soon, Jordan. Love you."

_Click._

I slowly drop my arm, staring at the shape of it resting in my hand. I half-expect it to ring again, with Emmett chuckling and apologizing for the interruption, but I know that he's gone, leaving a lingering sense of longing in the silence.

My legs carry me out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom. I flop back onto the bed, expelling a long breath. My eyes roll up toward the ceiling. Blurriness clouds the edges of my vision. It's only been moments and I'm already sinking back into the haze; falling into the strange daze-like state of non-existence. I press the phone to my chest, feeling my heartbeat thrum steadily against it as the blackness folds in around me.

()()()

As time passes, the familiar whoosh of heavy winds gives way to a downpour. Fat droplets splatter against the window like a storm of bullets with no sign of resistance. Eventually, something inspires my brain to spark back to life. I roll my head to the side, my dry, unblinking eyes peering blankly at the raging weather.

My senses adjust slowly. Time passes in a crawl, each moment stuttering before it passes completely. The dullness of my hearing subsides first, even though my vision is still littered with spots. A repetitive rapping catches my attention. It's not the sort of scratching, whacking sound that comes from branches being thrown against the wall. It's almost as if the sound is being made on purpose.

I kick off from the bed, rising up to stand on the hard wooden floor. My gaze is locked on the window, unmoving. Rain washes down the glass, smearing away the detail, leaving the forest behind it nothing more than a shaded black curtain. I lean forward slightly, angling my head as my hearing stretches out, searching for the tiniest disruption.

In that very instant, an eruption of sound bursts through the storm. My body moves without thought, pulled by the invisible strings of instinct. I leap toward the window, my hands grabbing the bottom and ripping it open. The howl has silenced, but my reaction hasn't. My chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath, my vision suddenly sharp and clear again. I scan the forest floor, my eyes trailing over every blade of grass and every inch of land, but I find nothing. I exhale sharply in irritation, but the feeling is short-lived—I find the answer in the breath that I reflexively pull back into my lungs.

One by one, each muscle in my body tenses. Slowly—very, very slowly—I raise my gaze up the trunk of the tree, climbing and climbing, passing through the gnarled branches until they reach the very top. My fingertips curl in as my gaze picks out the spot of color in the darkness, locking with the white flash of an unmistakable dimpled grin. As I spot him, he winks, cupping his hands around his mouth, creating a megaphone to carry his voice. It's unnecessary—I can hear the four words that leave his mouth clearly without any raise in volume.

"Delivery for Jordan Uley!"

Some part of his antics sends a blaze through my veins. It's not anger—it's a sort of hot flash of need, the kind that desires only to crush and kill and taste the salt of blood. The second reaction is stronger. It's a strong swell of amusement and admiration in the knowledge that not even a river and a pack of wolves can keep one of us from coming for the other.

But that doesn't mean that a storm won't keep the pack from coming for him, off duty or not.

I duck beneath the open window, throwing one leg out. My foot plants against the ledge as I lower my head, positioning myself in a crouch in the open window. The rain soaks me in moments, running through my scalp and into the fabric of my clothing. The cold can't touch me, but it does add another round of thrill to the whole situation, heightening my alertness.

My eyes hold Emmett's glittering gaze as I bunch my muscles. I push off fearlessly, my body unfurling as I swipe my hand through the air. My fingers brush the slick bark of the tree before they grasp onto a sturdy branch. I dangle for a moment before smoothly hoisting myself upward, my feet firmly set.

It's not even a full second later that I'm being pulled into Emmett's arms, encased in the tight reassurance of his hold and enveloped in the sweet calm brought by his scent. My body is pressed against his own, our drenched clothing squishy and wet but forgotten as he leans down and my lips find his.

Our kiss is a gentle reunion that sparks a fire. His arms are around my waist as mine are around his, holding him close to me as the urgency dies down and the relief sets in. My body molds in with his as the storm disappears, the hovering branches providing a slab of cover that's just enough to close us off from the rest of the world. Both of us know that allowing this to continue will get us both carried away, but I can't bring myself to stop.

Emmett has to pull away. His eyes squeeze shut, his grip tightening as he breaks the kiss. His eyes open, first the left, then the right, as he leans his forehead against mine. His lips curl back in amusement at my heavy breathing and he sighs, sending a rush of sweet, icy breath across my face.

"Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere we can be alone?"

The thought alone brings a jab of excitement. I smile slightly, nodding as I slide away from him, only to lace my fingers through his. "Come with me."

I bring him back into the fury of the wind and rain, my hand locked tightly with his own. Our bodies brush as we dart across the yard. The grass is tall, tickling my knees, but thin and fragile beneath the pound of precipitation. I'm careful to wind through the smaller patches, lessening the chance of leaving any of Emmett's scent behind.

It's a half-mile walk, and at our pace, the distance is cleared in just over a minute. I lead him toward a shed, broken and battered, barely visible beneath the moss that has corrupted it like disease. It leans against a thick tree, the sides expanded as if the weak walls can't bear to support the sloppily shingled roof. It's no fairyland castle, but it's at least something.

I grasp the doorknob firmly, my fingers sliding over the rust. I twist slowly, but the knob doesn't even budge. With a soft growl, my shoulder rams into the door, forcing it to part with a cough of dust. I exchange a smug look with Emmett before ducking inside.

The coat of dust matting every inch of the shed screams of years of absence. It blows wildly in the air, excited by the burst of wind, before Emmett shuts the door behind us. He stays quiet, swiping at cobwebs as we move forward and muttering under his breath as they stick to his fingers. I take steady steps, stride by stride, my eyes taking in the scene as Emmett's fingers drop out of my own. The walls are rotting and the floorboards shudder and creak under the lightest pressure. Sam clearly isn't a master of construction.

While Emmett busies himself with plucking his fingers clean, I focus my attention on the only thing stored inside the shed. There isn't anything useful—not even a pack of nails. Just a lone, bathtub-sized wooden box kicked back in the corner.

I stop before it, tracing the hard wood. Dust gathers at my fingertips, leaving three streaks behind on the surface. I ignore the dirt, clamping my hands down on the edge. It takes a few minutes of strain and tugging before I manage to pry the top off. The box opens with a pop, releasing another round of dust.

One hand holds the top open while the other flips through the bottomless collection of clothes. An endless wardrobe of every werewolf's fashion dream—stained jeans chopped off just below the knee, blue and grey and some even black. My eyes catch one rumpled article that stands out among the rest. I pull it free and shake off the dust, snorting at the sight of the sweatshirt, so thoughtfully packed for the few who can't pull off the shirtless look in public.

"If you were cold, you could've asked to snuggle, Jordan."

I laugh once, dropping the sweatshirt back into the pile. "And you're assuming that I'd  _want_  to 'snuggle'?"

Emmett is silent for a moment. I close the top of the box, turning and bracing my hands against it as I take in the sight of Emmett standing back against the doorway, wearing a painfully shocked expression. He blinks, his gaze connecting with my own. "Well . . . yeah."

"Oh, come on now. Don't give me that look." I open my arms for him, gesturing him forward. "No hard feelings."

Emmett moves in a breeze, pressing against me as his arms slide through the spaces of my own. He chuckles lowly, close enough that I feel his laughter echoing in my chest.

"And you're sure about that?"

_Very._  I think the word, but my voice never comes. Instead, I study the movement of his firm jaw and the shape of his lips as he breathes the words. I lose every train of thought, taking in the sight of his face just inches from mine. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I can't take it anymore.

One moment, we're so close, and the next, there's no space at all. My lips crash against his in a fiery kiss. There's no slow build of gentle calm this time—the kiss takes right off the ground and explodes. My hands are clenching in Emmett's shirt, twisting and tearing at the fabric while his hands plant against the box, braced against it as he pushes himself against me.

Despite the need, our actions aren't primal—there isn't any demand to force this in motion. This is passion—a fire that can quench the monster, stomping the flames out to ash. This is his the reaction to brilliant scent filling my lungs; the sensation of his full attention that turns my blood to honey; the rhythm of his laughter that skips in tune with my pulse. And beyond that, it's also the pressure of his muscular abdomen against my own and the growing bulge in his jeans.

My hands grip the hem of his shirt, raising it up over his head without time for protest, destroying the stubborn strips. My warm fingers knot into his hair, so soft and dry. Emmett lets out a soft growl, his teeth clicking as he nuzzles my neck. He dips me into a bow, leaning over my body as he trails his kisses along my jaw.

"I know you need me," he whispers in my ear. His voice is husky, tinted with an edge that raises goose bumps on my arms. "I knew you needed me, and that's why I came. Not for this, but for you."

His words produce another spin of adrenaline. I breathe against his neck, my words soft. "I love you, Emmett."

A purr passes through Emmett's lips. "And I know you do." He retraces his path, finding my mouth and igniting the flames all over again.

Instinct swallows me whole. Keeping one hand tangled in his hair, I run my nails down the naked skin of Emmett's back, bracing myself against the box as I skillfully maneuver him out of his jeans, listening to his belt fall to the wood below with a satisfying thump. I shudder in anticipation, knowing that there's not much left now—just one final tug. But below the eager need, there's also a sense of reluctant patience—it's his turn.

Kisses smolder down my neck as anxious hands remove the barrier of my torn clothing and caress the smooth skin that's revealed. Emmett shifts over me, struggling to hang on to his own patience as his lips travel down my shoulder and down to the single strap along my back. Emmett's lips part slowly, his teeth grazing my skin as they slice through the strap and drag it away.

Emmett pauses again, stalling the crackling flames. He slips his hands over my skin, soothingly exploring every inch as he takes in my expression. His eyes are glinted black with hunger that stops the rush in its tracks. This will finalize everything. Every fiber of my being is screaming yes, to stop the torture and let it happen. But at the same time, the monster is screeching for me to stop; to not let this beast control me.

_Kill it,_  the monster urges.  _He's only playing with his prey. This is a game._

I feel my breathing pick up. My teeth lock and my eyes drop down to hold Emmett's own. He's only a predator, and I'm allowing myself to be his prey; I'm giving in, bowing down; cutting my own throat. My hand starts to slide off Emmett's back, dropping back to my sides, while the other clenches in his hair, preparing to twist and pop.

"No," Emmett says softly. He doesn't change our position, but instead catches my hands and entwines our fingers. He adds pressure to the ring, holding my gaze steadily with a fierce determination. "This is us, Jordan. Nothing is going to stop that."

My bare chest shudders with a heavy breath as I fix Emmett with a searing stare. There are only a few moments between us and the finish line, but for now, the race is paused. I can end the race—I can eliminate the threat and finish on my own. Or I can fight the monster, force  _it_ to back down, and cross into a different finality.

The choice doesn't require any debate.

In the corner of my thoughts, my eyes pay close attention to my hand that I've wound into his hair. I lower my hand slowly, brushing my knuckles over the side of his face. My fingertips touch the satin-smooth skin of his cheek and rest there. I take in the sight of him—the honey of his eyes, the sweetness of his scent, the shape of his lips—and find myself slowly leaning into him, touching our lips together.

The kiss is slow at first, Emmett's reaction stalled by his careful intentions. I don't share the hesitation anymore though—I'm certain now. I return my fingers to the softness of his hair, holding him in place while drawing him into a deep kiss that sends sparks of heat tingling from the peak of my scalp all the way down into the tips of my toes, numbing and electrifying at once.

His tongue pushes past my teeth, skimming over the top of mine, dancing with it, twining, teasing. The quiet skim of our exploring hands is audible as Emmett's hands move toward the backs of my thighs. I throw away all the second thoughts, packing the monster's doubt in the dark, damp corners of my mind, relishing on the billions of buzzing sensations as I encourage Emmett to take the reins and venture further.

It's not long before I fall apart. Only, it isn't my sanity that collapses—it's the barriers built around my heart; the wall that separates Jordan Uley from reality. I set it all free, allowing Emmett to be the one to give my suffocating spirit its first breath.

It might not be the best time, place, or circumstance, but that doesn't matter.

There's no going back now.

I am still not whole, even with the completion. Like a doctor who stitches up the last open wounds of the broken, his love is an antidote to the monster within. But this is just another dose that will keep it at bay for a little while longer. It might not be permanent, but hell, if this means something to Emmett, it makes sense to me.

The moment the thought solidifies, I release the pent up longing and desire. And it's in that same moment that Emmett and I both free-fall into a new brand of fire, together.

*Emmett*

I catch a glimpse of her face as her expression breaks, shattering like glass, opening up into a mass of many different emotions that I've never seen before. We share a look—something intimate—and I can see the light of feeling in her eyes, filling with emotions that are too deep for me to describe. Emotions that have been locked in for a while, but now freely flicker over her face.

I listen to the love-words she manages to speak. It's hard not to—she's making it clear to not leave any of her thoughts to my imagination, and making sure I hear it all, too.

I feel every response her body gives in reaction to my own. We move together, as one. Her body is so in tune with mine, it's hard to tell there are really two of us. She responds in a way I've never experienced, even though we've both taken this trip more than once before. She is wild, raw, and uncontained. There is no lady-like hesitation, no holding back. It's all real, as she feels and I feel, until eventually, there's an impossibly long stretch of time where I swear we've both hit an unreachable level of heaven.

But it's not the light of God that touches our exposed skin. It's just the light of the moon as the roof of the shed collapses over our heads, revealing a rare sight of the round orb of the moon peaking through the clouds, its soft silver glow igniting the world around us.

And suddenly, it's all over.

Damn.

The moon is a spotlight, a flare in the dark sky that signals our presence. We force ourselves to remember how to move again, instantly setting in motion. I keep a close eye on Jordan's figure as she ruffles through the box, wrinkling my nose against the dull scent of wet-dog. I shake my head as she offers the chopped jeans, sliding my boxers where they belong. There's no hope for the rest of my clothes.

I start to grin, patiently waiting as I watch Jordan move. There's still an aftershock of trembles spreading through her body, visible in her shoulders and legs. She growls once, shaking her head and muttering something to herself. She twists to the side, allowing a wave of shakes to quake through her. Muscles tear and bones crack as they rearrange. Jordan's body mutates in a matter of seconds as she bursts out of her skin, hunkering down on all fours. She snaps her teeth and shakes out her fur as she settles into her other form.

The white wolf reminds me of her, even as she inhales slowly and narrows her eyes. The fierce gleam in her eyes; the sure posture of her stance; the smooth grace of her movement. I can see all of Jordan there, even through the fur. I start to smirk, but I stop short as the wolf lets out a loud huff through her teeth.

"Let's go," I agree, muttering the words under my breath.

I pivot back and reach for the doorknob, but I don't get a chance to open it—the door, loosely connected to the broken wall, sways and clatters to the ground the moment my fingers come in close contact. Jordan rumbles from behind me, her breath warm on my neck.

"Hey now, no laughing at me," I chide playfully. She huffs at me again, her massive form brushing past me and heading outside. I stroll out after her, entering the eerie calm of the night.

It smells like rain, and a layer of wetness clings to the forest, but there isn't any other sign of the wild storm. The sky is black, the forest oddly silent. I strain to hear any signs of the wildlife as I tag after Jordan, but my ears can't hear anything except—

I pause, my head tilting as my hearing picks up on something. At first they only hear a gentle whistle—air being blown out—and I assume it's Jordan. But it can't be, because there, in the shadows, I can hear the familiar pound of another wet, heavy heart.

My mouth opens to speak, but Jordan's already growling, her pace stopping as she lifts her large head. I follow her narrowed gaze. The huge black form is hard to pick out from the shadows, but the glittering light of his eyes is still visible as they burn into me, frozen and searing.

We're no longer trapped in that feeling of being suspended in time. Now, the world is real, even though my head still swims from the sights, smells, and sensations scalded into every corner of my memory. The black wolf starts to snarl, quietly at first and then slowly longer, his muzzle wrinkling over his teeth. I know he's about to pounce—I can see it in the ready curve of his shoulders and the light puffs of rank breath huffing from his nostrils. Reflexively, I would have slipped into my own crouch and taken his challenge. But this isn't my fight.

Before me, the white wolf echoes the snarl. She raises her voice above the others, jogging forward a few paces to block the space between the black wolf and me. Her neck is stiff and her own teeth are bared in warning. Tension radiates off of the two of them as they lock eyes, each a stubborn statue, unwilling to back down. I remain frozen, my gaze set between them, until finally, the black wolf lets out a grunt and melts back into the shadows.

Jordan doesn't move at first. I have to slide beside her, resting my hand on the round shape of her shoulder. She turns back to look at me, her gaze hardened with a harsh emotion that I don't understand at first. I give her a bright grin in return, watching as her gaze softens.

"I don't think that guy was looking to give me an invitation to hang around," I whisper to her.

The wolf straightens her stance, bumping the side of her large head against my own. She holds it there for a minute before tossing her weight to the side in a playful shove. I chuckle, allowing her to gallop ahead into the forest, and I cast one final glance around me before sprinting after her.

()()()

Pretty lucky guy, I am—I get her in bed with me again in that same night.

But isn't like _that_ , if you know what I mean. This time is more innocent—light breathing, blankets and pillows, closed eyes and still hands. Jordan rests on her back, her head turned into my chest as she sleeps, her face a restless slide show.

What can I say? A man has to be efficient if he's going to get the job done right.

We've ended up back at the house after a few miles' run. There hasn't been any other prowling wolves to creep on us—just the wind in our faces and the exhilaration of our matched speed. We lunged up the porch in record time, entering the still house without any caution. The rest of the family's already dispersed into other nightly activities, leaving the house empty.

Jordan fell back into herself after shoving through the large doorway. She all but collapsed into me, dizzy and mumbling nonsense, disoriented from the rush. I, being the gentleman that I am, took her upstairs with me and settled her in for a nice little sleep.

I never got the chance to find any clothes for her. She doesn't seem to mind it anyway—there aren't any rivers for her to hide her body in here, regardless. I keep her close in a tender embrace, allowing her to breathe on my skin. Every now and then, I swear I hear a whistle of my name, but her voice disappears beneath her gentle snore moments later.

So we lay here, together, her heartbeat thumping evenly against my chest. I trail my fingers through the loose tangles of her hair, allowing them to skim the top of her shoulder that's peeking out from the blanket. Her skin is weathered—not as soft as mine but still smooth. It's alive—not a perfect sheet of ice that can split and shatter if gripped too tightly, but real skin, warm and thick like flesh should be.

My fingertips pause over a splotch of color. It's barely visible, blended in with the russet, but still there. A spot of yellow—a fading bruise. I smirk at the sight of the healing mark, knowing full well that if it's still there when she wakes up, she'll wear it like a prize.

There isn't much that is fragile about Jordan. She's wild, raw—something that could be born to nature itself. I breathe in the scent of her—not sweet and flowery, yet not musky and repulsing. It's almost bitter, with a sweet bite to it that tingles in my nostrils. But at the same time, it's something different that's distinguishable enough to be picked out from miles and miles away. Her scent is mixed in with a tang of dry blood and the airy smell of pine, but I decide not to question that.

Jordan stirs suddenly. She lets out a gentle sigh, adjusting her shoulders and pulling herself up until she bumps the headboard. Her legs push away from her body, yanking the blanket down to her hips. I raise my hand, hovering over the air as my eyes take in the emotions playing on her expression. Her brows pull down and her eyes tighten slightly before her breathing slows back into its steady rhythm.

I pause for a moment before allowing my hand to drift back down to her skin. The urge to touch her refuses to be denied—I can't even help myself. The newly exposed skin causes a reaction down south, but I push those thoughts away before they turn into something uncontrollable.

My hand is traveling across her skin again. My fingers are pure white against the dark tone of her skin: ice on fire. There's something even more striking about the heat of her now. It feels like every touch sets me on fire, but there isn't any flame and instead of pain, there's a deep pleasure. I hum low in my throat, literally feeling my eyes darkening as my hand slides lower. When they hit a certain point, a movement catches my eye—it's the blanket, starting to creep farther away from her body as Jordan's hips begin to rise.

_Oh damn._

I inch my touch backward quickly, before the movement sets off another round of demands from the southern areas. Jordan's body slacks again as I near her ribs. I tilt my head as her hips fall back down, pausing before slowly sliding my hand down her body. When my hand touches the area just above her belly button, her body starts to arch once more. I chuckle under my breath, unable to help myself.

_Alright, alright. That's enough, Emmett._

The little voice of reason inside my head knows better. It's these little amusing games that can spark the steam all over again. Knowing better than to press my luck, I snake my arm around her body and gently pull her close to me, careful not to disturb her. My eyes set on her face as I move her across the sheets, seeing as her expression flickers once more. Jordan will wake soon, even though I want her to sleep. She's going to need some extra energy to throw that shed back together.

Pulling Jordan against me, I notice how hot she really is. Her body heat is a blaze, like a layer of heat that surrounds a wildfire. It makes sense that it would be—her body heat has to consume every bit of me, frying out my venom from her system.

It's a shame, but I know that I won't be out of her for long. There is no way in hell that I can willingly resist the chance to relive this night again. She isn't soft, hesitant, or careful, but at the same time, she isn't in it for the thrill. Jordan is soft to the touch but tough to the grip, an equal partner in the avalanche of emotion brought by our steamy encounter. Never before has any woman been able to make me feel that way—like I'm the one on the verge of losing everything; like the sensations that crash through me are the doings of another and not just my own natural reaction. This has to be real.

As my attention drifts, my thoughts take a turn down a new route. I haven't ever had this before, not even with Rosalie. I almost start to wonder what there really has ever been with her. Not this. There isn't an equal. There's always been Rosalie's wants; Rosalie's dreams; Rosalie's despair and pursuit of what she can never have. I could never give her what she wants and needs. She craves escape from what she is—something that can be found in a fiery death, but not from me. Rosalie has always wanted nothing more than a way to work through the curses of this life—she's wanted nothing more than the bend the rules and have something I can't give her.

I always have thought Rosalie was beautiful, but back then, I never truly understand. I know Rosalie is a looker, but she doesn't hit the definition of what there really is. Jordan is beautiful. Not because of the shape of her body or the seduction spoken in her voice or the feel of her touch. She's beautiful in the mystery of the beautiful person hidden deep inside her. She's beautiful because I can see past what might mistake her as someone ugly; she's beautiful through the person that I'm bringing out of her.

Jordan is fighting to have me. She isn't saving me because of the genes I've inherited and using me as an anti-depressant. She is fighting to keep me—to keep what we have. Jordan wants me—my appearance is nothing but a plus to her. Jordan has a choice—she could have put up a fight and came after me, but instead she's choosing to fight against herself to savor what we can have together—an equal balance; a happiness.

Rosalie might still be out there, and she might be a pain in the ass. There might be a threat on the horizon—or what I'd like to think of as action—that might pile on even more trouble than there already is. But none of that can change this.

Everything is certain now. Everything is final. Jordan is _mine_.

"My Jordan," I whisper, testing the words on my lips.

In her sleep, Jordan's mouth curves into a smile. I chuckle to myself and nestle my head in her neck, unwilling to allow her to stir just yet. There's a moments pause before she breathes four words that bring me more pleasure than any amount of sex ever could.

"I love you too, Emmett," she sighs.

Jordan's body turns into mine as the words leave her lips. A jolt shoots through my empty veins as she winds her arms around my neck, pressing into me like I'm her personal pillow, crafted just to fit her shape. The smooth brush of her hot skin against my own raises another grin on my lips, impossibly large.

Eventually, the sound of Jordan's voice fades off into a light, breathless snore. I wind both arms around her torso, holding her tight to me with a fool's grin planted on my face. For the first time in centuries, I swear I could almost feel my heart beating hard against my chest, racing and pumping and impossibly alive.

She has that effect on me.

 


	51. Dimples and Duties

_"Don't share all your dreams in one night, no_  
Don't tell the whole story  
Why should you hurry?" - 10cc.

* * *

Chapter Fifty One

Dimples and Duties

* * *

Oblivion.

If there is such thing as any kind of escape, this is it. I've never know it to be possible to fall beneath the hell raging in my skull, but now, I've just managed to duck beneath them. My eyes are closed, my body nearly relaxed as I rest on some sort of smooth, comfortable surface. I breathe in slowly, my lips curling as they draw in the sharp scent of someone familiar, and behind it, the smell of furniture, rain, and even a little bit of bloodsucker.

The  _hell_?

My eyes fly open.

Sleep might drug my mind, but it fails to dull my senses. I burst right out of unconsciousness without any drowsy side effects. My breath catches in my throat as my body tenses, preparing to strike. I take in the sight of the heavily-carpeted floor beneath me as my mind assesses the situation.

I'm in the 'sucker den. The thought hits me like a blow to the gut, and if not for my position, I probably would have lost my human skin right then. I'm stopped by the feel of marble skin pressed against my own, suddenly injected with a brief recollection of the previous night. It's then that I realize that my arms are wrapped around a thick neck and my body is laying flat across a chest that shakes with muted laughter. I mutter a curse beneath my breath before glancing to the side, meeting the slits of Emmett's downcast eyes. He breaks out into a huge grin as his eyes find mine, his teeth visible through the face-full of my hair.

"Sweet dreams?"

"I'm about smothering you to death."

"I'm gonna take that as a yes."

Laughter flutters through my body, warm and real. I breathe out against Emmett's chest before pushing myself up into a sitting position, my knees digging into the mattress. The movement tugs at the sheets, causing them to slide away from Emmett's body and reveal a lot of smooth skin and rock-hard muscle. My eyes are drawn to his figure, my heart soaring at the mere sight of him while my mind is flooded with crystal memories.

It's just too bad he managed to find his boxers.

Or maybe it isn't, because there's no other way I'd be able to retain some level of control right now.

Emmett hums low in his throat, his eyes measuring my expression. I tear my gaze away from his body and return it to his face, taking note of the emotions he's openly displaying. With smugness pulsing off him, he folds his hands over his abdomen and rests his broad shoulders against the headboard.

"Go ahead and take it all in," he encourages. "I know it might be. . ."

As he speaks, his eyes start to lower to my exposed figure, causing his grin to falter. I raise a brow as he trails off, his eyes running over my bare skin. Heat jabs in my core, interpreting his body language as a challenge. I push it away, knowing better—the darkening of his eyes speak of a different brand of desire.

Emmett swallows hard—hard enough that his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. His gaze has frozen on my naked body, his pupils dilated; black splotches of black ink fan out in his irises, staining the yellow hazel. "Hey, Jordan?"

I try to control my breathing, gritting my teeth against the shivers triggered by the husky edge. At the very least, my stare remains steady. "Yeah?"

"You know you're still naked, right?" he asks, the words coming slowly.

Another shiver shoots down my spine. _Shit._  "I know."

Silence settles. We only breathe, motionless, both of us buzzing with want yet stalled by an invisible wall between us. My muscles contract as they begin to shake, strained by the force of my own free will battling against desire. It takes every ounce of willpower inside of me to control my stare alone as it's helplessly distracted by the sudden tightness of his boxers. Emmett is a perfect statue, all until he notices the curl of my fingers clenching into the sheets. His eyes shoot up to my face as he reads the thoughts doubtlessly visible on my expression.

The second his gaze locks with mine, I freeze. My body becomes a block of stone, momentarily stunned by the look of pure want in Emmett's stare. A second later, my control collapses. I all but throw myself at him, while he rises to meet me. Our bodies clash, his hands grabbing my sides and pulling me in while my fingers glide down his abdomen to tear away his boxers. Our mouths mold together, our bodies joining in a tangle of limbs. It happens suddenly, both of us heavily charged with adrenaline and fueled by an anticipation neither of us can extinguish.

After, I'm not plagued with the same heavy, dizzying sort of exhaustion. Instead, I'm riding on a more pleasant sort of high, like a young girl with butterflies in her stomach, only magnified a million times. Emmett smiles cheekily up at me, pressed down against the mattress while allowing me to rest across his torso. A shower of powder sprinkles in his dark curls and dusts over his face as it puffs out from the defined split in the wall, angered by the motion of my body as I turn my head to catch a glimpse of his priceless expression.

"Stop smiling at me like that, you big goof," I tease. His dimples are setting off another round of jittery emotions inside me and it's just enough to stir the smoking embers between us.

Emmett shakes his head slowly without dropping his smile, rubbing circles with his thumb on the small of my back. "No can do—you haven't given me any reason  _not_  to smile."

Laughing under my breath, I nod in agreement, propping myself up on my elbows. "All payback for the damage."

I brush my lips across his own, quickly ducking my head before he can steal another kiss. A disappointed growl vibrates in his throat. I press my face into the cool marble of his skin, nuzzling his neck lightly.

"Damage only means that I'm doing my job pretty damn well," Emmett reasons, his tone edged with playful boasting.

"Oh?" My lips spread over my teeth. "And here I haven't even worked up a sweat yet. Shame."

Although I can't see his expression from this position, I can clearly imagine the fake-hurt playing across his face. Emmett winces, his chest trembling with a contained laughter. "Ooh, ouch.  _Big_  injury to my ego."

I place an apology kiss beneath his jaw, and then lean up to return his narrowed gaze. His honey eyes sparkle as they connect with mine. "Is your endurance suffering at all?"

The air rushes around me as the scene abruptly changes. With a crack of protest from the weary bed below, Emmett positions himself over me, his face inches from my own. His teeth are bared in an enormous, gleaming grin as he bends his head, capturing my lips in a short yet simmering kiss. Just before it sets a fire, he dips his head and breathes lowly into my ear, his icy breath brushing across the surface of my blazing skin.

"Now that," he whispers, caressing the silky skin of my thighs as he braces my body against the soft mattress, "isn't gonna be running short any time soon."

()()()

"Ooooh, aaaaah. Yes, that's  _very_  nice."

Emmett muses quietly to himself, picking through the thick carpet in search of small bits of wood. He wears a mask of complete focus as his eyes crawl along the floor. He cocks his head, his eyes zeroing in on an area toward the wall before he darts forward in a sudden, inhuman movement, snatching up a sliver of wood and raising it high above his head in triumph.

"Gotcha!"

I smirk, watching him study his catch in the corner of my eye. He tugs up his black basketball shorts, forcing them to ride up on his hips, and then shoots a casual glance my way. I avert my gaze, draping the torn strips of what used to be a layer of sheets over the cluttered mess of broken furniture piled sortlessly in the opposite corner of the room.

"And done," I conclude.

I shoot a risky look over my shoulder, finding Emmett watching me. I'm hot beneath his gaze, even covered by a long sleeves of grey cotton. The after effects of our intimacy have yet to completely subside. His dimples pop up as I grant him my attention, the familiar easy amusement returning to his features.

"That it, babe?"

"Mmm." My gaze races around the room. It's not as spotless as it used to be—the flawless carpet is littered with bits of wood and plaster, the wall clearly cracked and split behind a smashed painting hastily thrown over it. The large bed is in bits and pieces, thrown in the corner and hidden by the remains of the sheets. I return my stare to Emmett after my brief assessment, cracking a grin.

"It could use one more little detail." I slip past him, ducking into the empty closet and searching through the endless sea of men's clothing. After a few moments, I pull out a dusty box and shake off the dust, revealing the cover of the Monopoly box. I flex my fingers, flicking my wrist and sending the box spiraling across the floor. It lands on its corner with a muted thump, the top tumbling off. The pieces scatter over the floor while the board topples face-down on the carpet.

Emmett cracks his knuckles thoughtfully as he takes in the scene. I lift one eyebrow, then the other, patiently awaiting his response. He takes the time to slowly pace around the game before he faces me again, curiosity written across his features.

"Board game gone wrong?" he guesses.

"That's the idea."

Emmett snickers, clapping his hands together loudly. "Excellent! No one will suspect a thing."

"Why thank you, Emmett." I return his praise with a bright smile, bowing in mock flattery.

"Alright, alright, back to business," Emmett chides, faking seriousness. He appraises me with bright eyes, his gaze lingering on my bare legs before shooting back up to my expression. "Looks like there's still one thing left to clean up."

In a blur, Emmett clears the distance between us and tosses me over his shoulder, breezing into the bathroom and setting me on the smooth tile. He ghosts his hands down my sides as he pulls away and takes a half step backwards. My eyes travel around the bright whiteness of the impossibly large bathroom. Emmett doesn't speak, remaining silent until my questioning gaze settles on him.

"Figured you could use a minute alone," he reasons. His voice is low, his eyes trained on my expression. When I don't object, he gives me a reassuring smile and continues. "I'll be right downstairs if you need me. Take your time."

With that, Emmett retreats into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him and leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My happy-high parishes in his absence. I blow out a hot breath, running my hands through my straggly hair. My fingers touch the dipping collar of the sagging shirt three sizes too big, curling in and slipping it off of my body. I avoid looking in the mirror, unwilling to fully enter my own furious, fiery reality so soon.

I take in the room around me, dragging a slow breath through my nose. Everything is white—the floor, the walls, the lights, the sink, and even the rug. Not an inch is flawed with a single spot of dirt. The room shines beneath the blinding haze of the glowing light above my head. I shake my head, wondering why the hell a parasite would need a shower anyway. It rains so much, even half the tribe doesn't bother with showers, much less a fancy, thousand-dollar bathroom.

Stepping forward, I press my hand against the glass of the shower down and push it open. The shower itself is huge and round, topped off with a single silver shower head. I shake my head, sliding in one leg in, then the other before twisting the first nozzle my fingers reach. Water immediately shoots out of the shower head, coating the walls and splattering my skin with a frenzy of droplets. I duck beneath the icy spray without a second thought, doused from head to toe in moments.

My skin crawls with the contrast in temperatures, although I barely mind. I burn, a stubborn flame unwavering in the chill. My eyes pass over the soap packed neatly behind a miniature shelf built into the wall of the shower, but I make no move to use them. For all I know, they could be full of bloodsucker poision. Not only that, but I'm covered in Emmett, and I have no desire to wash him off. The sensation of _him—_ his scent, the taste of his skin, the memory of his skin on mine—crowds my mind and sings through my veins like a live wire; forced to accept the electricity that finalizes his place.

I've been with men before, many times. Too many times to count. It's nothing to be proud of, and in my head, there isn't any room for senseless shame, either. I sure as hell know what sex is, and I know that whatever's happened between us is nothing like anything I've ever dealt with. This hasn't been a claim; it hasn't been an entertaining distraction. At the same time, it's more than just an expression of love. I might not be an expert in that area, but there's something different about what happened in the past few hours, time and time again.

It's a possession.

Before now, there's been a push and a pull. A pull gravitating us together, but a push reversing our direction, like identical magnets being shoved at one another. Now, that's all but disappeared. My vision has cleared and my pulse has changed course. The frantic  _kill, kill, kill_ beating with each thump of my heart has been replaced with a different chorus.

_Emmett, Emmett, Emmett._

His name swarms through my brain, bombarding my mind and swelling my veins. At the same time, the thought of him tugs at my core and engulfs me in a sense of near peace. There's not just me and the monster anymore. Now it's me, Emmett, and my monster, all molded into one and struggling for dominance.

Before, the monster had found no competition for its rule. But now, it's outnumbered, and the chances of it ever finding its throne again are nearly diminished.

My thoughts are disrupted by a knock on the door. I rake my hands through my hair and turn off the water, sliding back the shower door just enough to peer around it. Drawing in a deep breath, I gather myself, working my jaw before speaking. "Yeah?"

"Got some clothes." Emmett's arm snakes around the open door, a rolled-up outfit grasped in his fingers. He pats around, inching in a little further without peeking in before he finds the counter and releases the clothing. They unfold over the sink, dipping into the bowl.

"Thank you," I murmur distantly.

Emmett nods from behind the door. "Anytime, babe. I'm still out here if you need me."

The door pulls shut.

I lunge out of the shower, relieved to escape the smothering whiteness. My feet pad over the tile as I pick up the clothes and snap them in the air in a few lousy attempts to rid the scent of leech. The smell's embedded in the fibers by now and impossible to get out. I mutter to myself as I grudgingly tug the clothing over my body.

Emmett's clearly put thought into his choice of clothing. The shirt's fitting: short sleeve, v-necked, and white, although stained see-through at the shoulders by the collected pool of dripping shower water. Figures. The jeans are simple—chopped above mid-thigh and torn around the edges, as I like them. Once the clothing is slid over my skin, I assess my reflection in the mirror, only to shake my head and snort.

It's a joke, at best.

I run my tongue over my teeth, half turning toward the door. It's not like Emmett will be expecting much, but I at least want to make an impression. I skim the counter as I think, my gaze pausing on a brush placed just behind the sink. I stare for a moment before picking it up and slowly starting to drag it through the thick tangle of my hair.

Three inches in, it catches. I curse under my breath, yanking roughly at it. The brush digs in, tangling further with each pull. I snarl out, slapping my hand against the counter to avoid throwing an impulsive punch at the mirror.

In the corner of my eye, I see the flash of movement, but I pay no mind to it, too focused on my mini-battle with the brush. It's not until footsteps sound that I tear my gaze away from the sink, meeting a pair of buttery pools of golden. They stare at me, unblinking, before lighting up with amusement.

"Need a little help?"

I huff through my teeth. "Possibly."

Emmett grins, cracking his knuckles together. "Challenge accepted."

Stepping forward, Emmett gathers me in his arms and grins as he dips me into a bow, holding my body against the edge of the shower while his hand pushes back the glass wall. I raises my brows but don't object, watching him reach for a bottle of soap and twist the water on. A hot splurt gushes from the nozzle, rushing through my scalp.

All of it is charming and all, until he squeezes a handful of soap into his open palm, sets the soap aside, and works his hands through my hair. His icy fingers tickle my hair while his hands rub my scalp, slowly and carefully as if each movement is thought out. That, and the sight of his soaked shirt clinging to his flexing biceps sets me on edge.

It isn't long before the scent of my unease rises into the air. Emmett sniffs once and glances down and meeting my steady stare with a chuckle. He pops his suggestively, wiggling his brow for extra effect.

"You like this?"

I don't answer. Instead, I reach up and place a hand on his shoulder, trailing my fingers across the muscles on his back before curling them in slowly, gripping him as I press our bodies closer. A smirk curves my lips as a restrained shudder quivers through my body and passes into Emmett's.

"Let's not do that," Emmett whispers roughly. He pulls back slightly, meeting my gaze with a half-smile. "We can't tease my McCarty too much or he won't ever let us finish."

"You're right," I agree with a semi-serious smile. "The board's had enough trouble for the day."

Emmett chuckles. "Got that right." He rests a snow-cold hand at the nape of my neck, lifting my hair and raising out the soap. I allow him to continue his work, studying his features as he goes. His dimples show as he turns off the water with a squeak, twirling me around to stand before the mirror.

"You're a real charm," I note, my tone casual. I'm doing anything I can to strangle the last bits of want inside me, and this is the only play I can pull off.

"All part of the job," he assures me, seeming to not detect anything. I watch him move like a ghost, his head a few inches above my own as he stands behind me. He takes the brush his hands and slides it through my straight black locks, one by one.

I can't help but drink in the sight of Emmett, taking advantage of his distraction. Careful to not look directly at myself, I trace his reflection with attentive eyes, lingering on the strongest of his features—the firm set of his jaw, the familiar shiny black color of his hair, the bright shine in his eyes, and the entertained curl of his mouth. Even his skin—so pale, a ghostly white against the russet hue of my own—is flawless. It seems to glow beneath the bright bathroom lights. For all I know, he could be an angel.

An angel with the curse of exciting that little bitch down south with even the most innocent of touches.

Emmett's hand suddenly pauses. The teeth of the brush scrape at the fabric of the shirt on my back, springing back into place. I'm quick to avert my gaze, dropping my attention to the counter as he looks up. A smile teases at the corners of my mouth as I raise a brow. "Done?"

"Mission accomplished," he confirms, setting the brush down. Stepping aside, he catches the door and pulls it open, filling the spaces of my fingers with his free hand. "Or, I should say, mission one."

"Already up for another adventure?"

A chuckle passes through Emmett's lips. He walks at a leisurely pace, leading me through the bedroom and back down the stairs, his footsteps echoing on the wood. "I guess you could say that. Though, this adventure isn't the type action you'd expect."

I flash a smile. "Ooh. Just what would you say that this adventure leads to?"

"We'll have to see about that." Emmett smirks, raising his hands and holding them in front of my face. "Hold still."

As his icy skin covers my eyes, my muscles bunch. I have to force them to unlock, one by one, gritting my teeth as I wrestle against the stir of instinct inside of me. Emmett pauses for a patient moment before taking a step forward, waiting for a reaction. When I remain still, he continues the rest of the way, winding us around a corner and pulling something out of the way. He lowers me down onto the object—something like a chair. My nose is assaulted with a flurry of scents that water my mouth. I start to speak, but Emmett removes his hands just then, opening my eyes to the source of the smells.

I'm sitting in a chair, seated at a fancy sort of table. A plate rests before me, filled to the edges. A tender steak, still sizzling, is stretched across the center, surrounded by a fluff of mashed potatoes and a mixture of colored vegetables. The rim of the steak is charred, accidentally cooked too long, but my eyes don't worry about the flaws. My hand catches the fork waiting beside the plate and guides it into the meat.

"I figured you could use some protein," Emmett says while pulling out a chair from himself. "You know, after all of your hard work today."

Emmett sits on the side to my left, assessing my reaction with a satisfied expression. He folds his hands together as he settles in, lifting his brows expectantly as I tear off a large chunk with my teeth. I chew for a few minutes, testing the flavor before swallowing.

"Perfect," I breathe. My stomach snarls, demanding more. I tear off another chunk before the first is finished.

"Excellent." Emmett leans back slightly, grinning as he watches me. I wait for him to speak again, but he doesn't, as if he's content with sitting there as I fill my stomach.

I eat like a wild woman, scooping, tearing, and swallowing without much thought, the juices of flavor tickling my taste buds and sliding down my throat while my appetite grows and grows. Emmett observes without a word, relaxed and patient. Something about the feeling of him watching, so close and attentive while I consume my food, raises the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. I choke on a warning snarl as I near the end of the plate. The wolf shakes inside of me, threatening to unfurl and burst out of my skin. I shake my head briefly, shutting her up with a snap of my teeth on the tip of my fork.

Seeming to sense the change in my mood, Emmett averts his gaze. I keep an eye on him, crunching through the bone of the steak and shoveling in a heap of mashed potatoes. His thumbs twirl, around and around and around, and his eyes crawl across the room lazily as if checking out a room he's studied millions and millions of times before. I feel my expression soften slightly at the sight of him just as I lower my fork to jab another scoop of food. The tines cling on the empty plate.

The twirling of Emmett's thumbs slows before stopping. He turns his head but not his gaze, keeping it on the refrigerator. His eyes move up and down, the yellow of his irises darting in my direction. After a moment, he breaks into a huge grin, sweeping up my plate and reaching over to set it on the counter before dropping his arms back onto the table and twisting his torso to face me.

"So, how was that for my first dinner, my lovely future wife?" His lips twitch.

I scoot my chair across the floor, moving closer to him—a sign that all the defensiveness has passed. I lean in, clasping my hands on the table as I hold his gaze, my lips twitching. "Nothing short of absolutely perfect. Is there a thank you required for such effort?"

Emmett rubs a hand over his chin, squinting his eyes. "Hmm. . . I'm gonna go with yes."

"Well, if you insist," I murmur. Grinning, I rise and stretch across the table until my face is inches from Emmett's own. I stare into the brightness of his eyes, my warm breath fanning across his face before leaning in and touching my lips to his.

The instant our mouths meet, sparks are lit. They flash behind my closed lids, and I have to pull away, even as Emmett tries to return the kiss. I sink back into my seat and slide my hands beneath the table. They ball into fists, tight enough that the veins on the backs of my hands pop out over the skin.

Emmett shifts in his seat. His eyes are slits now, resting on me with something more than just disappointment. He's quiet for awhile, his elbows pressed to the corner of the table before he speaks.

"Jordan." His voice is gentle—none of it matches with the hardness of his expressions. "I need...I want to ask you something. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

All thought trapped in my skull vanishes. I swallow thickly, my pulse suddenly pulsing in my bones as my brain refills. I mask my expression, turning my steady gaze into Emmett's caring stare. His mouth opens, but he hesitates before speaking.

"What was it that . . . made you the way you are?"

I pause again. I have to scatter to collect my thoughts again. This isn't what I was expecting. I work my jaw, moving the muscle as I contemplate.

"I've been like this since I was fourteen," I tell him. And my voice leaves me then, my throat full of sand.

Emmett nods once. He ducks his head down briefly, skimming his hands through his hair before trying again. "Could you tell me about it?"

The air around me is suddenly tight. It squeezes my throat, blocking my windpipes and ringing in my ears. My heart pounds heavily, the _glump, glump, glumping_  sound of it echoing through my brain. There's something about the way Emmett's speaking—something beyond simple curiosity. I don't know what it is, but whatever it is sends me spiraling back in time. I grab my knees, bracing myself as I breathe out slowly and describe the image pulsing in the forefront of my thoughts.

"I was forced to fight. I'd been kidnapped as a punishment for my crimes. I'd run off as a child—Sam had assumed I'd taken off for some time alone again, and he'd assured the pack of the same. Nobody thought anything of my absence, of course, and they shouldn't have. But as time passed, the fighting and the blood staining my hands, I felt myself rot, inside and out. I would burn with fever, my throat dry and my skin cracked beneath the waste. I wouldn't make a sound as I stood there, in the cold of that cell, feeling my heart crunch into my ribs as something awful grew inside of me with each passing by, feeding off of not just the decaying skin of my body, but she was feeding off of what was left of me—of that small little scared girl that I used to be. Eventually, there wasn't much left. I would have—should have—died, but my phasing saved my life when they tried to torture me to death."

I'm drumming my fingers on the table when I finish, the movement pushing the gears of my mind and allowing me to speak. Emmett stares at me through narrowed eyes, not speaking as if he expects more. I exhale, blowing out a hot breath through my nostrils. "That's all I have to say about that."

Emmett is silent, his jaw propped open but his tongue making no sound. His gaze drops to the table before darting back up. He probes my blank eyes before stretching a pale hand across the table, taking my hand with his own. He holds my gaze, speaking lowly and pressing his thumb on the ring settled on my finger. "I've made you a promise, Jordan. To heal you. And I'm still planning on keeping it."

 _Heal you._  My eyes burn in the dryness of the air, frozen. My mind is whirring, millions and millions of miles away, still trapped in the memory. Emmett doesn't move, despite my lack of answer—he slowly starts to smile at me, reassuring and comforting, while rubbing his icy thumb over the back of my hand.

Trapped in the moment, neither of us have time to register the breeze of movement as the house becomes occupied. Instinct sends an alarm through me, snapping me awake. I sit up straight while Emmett tilts his head, just in time. Carlisle and Esme enter the kitchen seconds later with a friendly causality ruined by their inhuman grace. Their eyes take in the sight of us and their expressions soften.

"Hello, Emmett," Carlisle greets. He even nods at me, his lips curved in a slight smile. "Hello to you as well, Jordan."

I don't respond. Emmett squeezes my hand, answering his parents with a wide, beaming grin. Their yellow eyes flicker between us again, surprise written on their expressions.

Esme's is especially evident as she takes in the sight of the white plaster dusted in Emmett's hair. I glance at his hair in the corner of my eye, noticing the tiny splinters still sprinkled in his dark curls. Carlisle follows her gaze and wrinkles his brow, looking as if he's about to comment but chooses to question him at last second.

"Has something happened?"

Emmett shrugs, leaning back in his chair far enough that the legs rear up, balancing himself without using his hands. "Dunno, Pop. One moment, we were rolling dice, then the next, BO _OM_!" Emmett hops to his feet, smacking his hands together for effect before turning to his parents. "Wall collapsed right in."

Carlisle frowns, speculating Emmett's stance with something more than casual interest. "I see."

"Alice and Jasper came back earlier," Esme chimes in. Her yellow eyes blink in my direction. "Where are they now? Perhaps they could help repair the wall and help to fix any damage done."

I exchange a look with Emmett, a sliver of amusement rising inside of me. He laughs, folding his arms across his chest while leaning against the corner of the wall. "Well, Jordan's becoming really fluent in a new language lately."

"Is she?" Esme smiles, looking at me with polite interest.

"She is," Emmett answers, quick to save me from having to speak. "When the game started to get a little tough, and the yelling started. . . damn, that's gotta be what spooked 'em off. They're probably halfway to Texas by now."

Looking between us, Carlisle's eyes tighten slightly. He and Esme are still sporting warm, welcoming smiles, but there's a certain tightness to Carlisle's eyes and a flare in Esme's nostrils that give away their suspicion. Emmett crosses his arms, leaning against the corner of the wall while I shift in my seat, forcing a semi-convincing grin through the eye-watering leech stench pouring off of them.

Suddenly, a howl sounds far in the distance, carrying on the wind over the trees. A jolt strikes my stomach and I'm on my feet in seconds, pushing away the chair and striding over to the glass window. Emmett follows right on my heels, groaning quietly under his breath as I immediately reach for the door.

"Already?"

My fingers catch the knob but don't twist. I look over my shoulder at Emmett, my face inches from his own. The pout of his bottom lip and sad glow of his eyes strike a different jolt through my body, directed at my heart. I can only nod, the ties of my loyalty all but tugging me out the door.

Emmett doesn't object. He gives a small, understanding smile and catches my chin, tilting my head slightly before finding my lips with a soft kiss. It's over in moments, but it's enough to set off a chain reaction inside of me that gives way to a pleasurable shudder.

We don't have to say anything else. I hold his eyes with my own, giving him a final smile before ducking through the door. I take two paces across the porch before throwing myself into the wolf, hitting the ground running.

The pack gossip is in full swing by the time I pass through the river. Their minds swirl and spin with a mixture of anxious worries and gnawing anticipation. Various images of different colored wolves, standing proud and tall on the ledge with the rest of the pack below them, float through many minds. All the daydreams and desires stutter behind my lids as the pack registers my presence. Another chorus begins—a churning, scattering, bursting roll of images and thoughts buzzing around the memory of the broken shed and the stink of the appalling scents left behind.

_Sick!_

_Have a nice night, Jordan?_

_I think I'm gonna hurl. . ._

_Dude, c'mon! Focus!_

_Damn! Never woulda guessed the leech had the balls to go that far!_

_Uh. . ._

_Sorry. No pun intended._

My easy lope stalls as my pace slows into a steady jog. I snort as I push through the green branches guarding the perimeter of the clearing and enter the muddy space.  _Don't shit yourselves. It's not exactly flattering._

The slop beneath me sucks at my paws, splashing my underbelly and turning my fur brown. I curl my lip warningly as the pack exchanges glances of shock, disgust, and curiosity, brushing off their thoughts as I search for Sam. The oval of the flat, brown land comes together in a point, meeting the ledge of the miniature hill jutting out from the ground. A low hum of private thought spills into the pack mind, stirred with images of a grassy slope rising up toward the grey sky. I rest my gaze at the crown of the hill, my muscles straining with the effort of holding my body still.

Swishing tails, padding paws, and tumbling thoughts continue on around me. The pack is all wonders and endless motion, minds slipping away from the pack's as they plunge into depths of doubt and fear. Only few wolves keep their heads straight. The dark grey wolf, still and silent, assesses the pack with narrowed eyes from the opposite edge of the clearing. The russet one paces in the center, his head raised and his shoulders rolling with his relaxed movements. Even the silver she-wolf has smuggled her nerves away and mixed in with the rest of the pack, her icy eyes a glass with no reflection.

After what seems like half of eternity, my full attention returns to the top of the hill, attracted by a sudden movement. A large, muscular figure trudges up to the top of the hill; a striking black shadow against the bright green of the long grass. Flanked by the brown, hovering shape of Jared, Sam takes his place at the top of the hill, his gaze flecked with regret, relief, and a hollow, lost shine. His shoulders are sunken, the majestic aura about him having evaporated into the air. He doesn't speak as he steps into position, holding an unsettled patience while the wolves raise their heads and cease their pacing, falling silent.

Suddenly, Sam's voice projects into each attentive mind, filling our ears and skulls with his careful words.

 _We all know why we're standing here right now. I have made the decision to resign my position as alpha of the pack—it's what's best right now._ His dark blue eyes sweep across the pack, taking in the sight of the of each wolfish face turned up to him. _Because of that, we're here today to earn our ranks within the pack. I want as little violence as possible. Any wolf who places a step out of the clearing is removed from battle and the same goes for any wolf who falls._

_The ranks will fall out in order of those who fall or pass the edge of the clearing. I will watch, and so will Jared, as he as chosen to resume his position as Beta. And . . . I suppose that's all there is to it._

I snarl through my teeth, dipping my head as he finishes. The monster inside builds me up, activating as I wipe my mind clean of thought and reason. I can't deny the need to be on top—never crushed below anything. The monster desires dominance; I can only think of the want to show what I'm worth—I'm more than just a leech-loving wacko. Together, we make an unstoppable force.

Not a damn thing is going to get in my way this time. Not even Jacob Black.

Sam shifts his weight, unease seeping off of him. His dark eyes capture all of ours at once as he makes a final statement, the last traces of his authority draining out with his final order.  _Don't make too much of this. I'd rather not see blood._

Growls rise in my throat as Sam slowly paces backwards, exiting my muzzle with each breath as they mix with the understanding grunts and huffs of my pack mates. Shot through with adrenaline, I shift into an offensive stance, bracing myself at the edge of the clearing. My eyes sweep over the backs of bristling wolves, picking out vulnerabilities as Sam's closing thoughts blur from my mind.

Finally, Sam gives a parting nod to Jared, disappearing over the grassy slope. Heads turn and tempers flare, the tension growing heavy, building with choppy breathing patterns and brief growls until all at once, a choir of howls split the forest and the pack clashes in a mass of fiery, furious fighting.

The fight begins, right there in the tiny clearing, humanity forgotten and instinct turned on high as all hell breaks loose.


	52. Declaration

_"Let the storm rage around me_  
 _I will stand, I will fight."_  - Jamie O'Neal.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Two

Declaration

* * *

This isn't the quiet quarrel Sam has asked for.

This is a snarling, thrashing, mad chaos. The once-flat landscape is a torn, trampled mess churned into a grimy paste of wet mud and hot blood that drips from broken jaws and pours from streaming muzzles. The storm of clashing, snapping, grappling wolves rages like a natural disaster released into the tiny clearing.

Puffs of hot, heavy breath swirl in the heavy air; an additional layer of steam. Only one of us, the small grey she-wolf who slunk into the forest before the fight even started, hasn't bothered to fight. The rest of the pack has erupted into a mad fit, brothers and sisters turning against one another in a primal struggle to come out on top.

Most of them don't even know what hit them.

Drunk with instinct, I tear my way through the tussling wolves, a blur of white fur and snarling, dripping jaws. The stale, dry taste of angry heat coats my throat. My fur is matted with mud and brush, clinging to me like an extra layer of fur. My paws drive me forward, mindless of my condition as I round the edge of the clearing and leap back into combat. I've set my aim on a distracted wolf whose gaze flickers across the clearing nervously, completely off guard.

I meet the body of my unsuspecting target at top speed, a sudden wall of muscle and fury that connects with his side with a sickening crack. The spotted male is unprepared—a startled wave of fear rushes through his brain, quickly overrode by the pain of impact. He kicks out his legs uselessly as I bring my weight down over him, giving a sharp cry of pain when I pressure his injured side. My opponent snaps and snuffs, throwing his weight around in a frantic attempt to shake me off. Blinded by rage, I sink and slash my teeth into open areas of hot skin, jerking my head back as I tear through hot flesh.

It only takes seconds before my opponent is overwhelmed. He gives a sharp yelp as the blood loss hits his veins with a paralyzing shock and his body gives out beneath him. He crumples to the ground in a heap, his spotted fur glistening with sweat. I lunge over the fallen body, landing on my paws before throwing myself back around to face him, caged snarls rumbling in my throat as I prepare to strike again. The skin of the spotted male's muzzle wrinkles as he bares his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he pushes against the ground, attempting to stand. He rises an inch off the ground before collapsing, heaving out a deep wheeze.

Victorious, I trot over to my fallen opponent and close my teeth around his neck. I retreat toward the perimeter, dragging the limp body along with me. His body leaves a shallow track in the mud.

Once I return, I take in the scene before me. The clearing is a battlefield mangled beyond repair. Trees are stripped bare, branches torn and bowing limply toward the ground. Rocks are smashed and strewn in bits across the ground while the ground is nothing more than a stirred rubble. I huff, tasting the salty flavor of another's blood spewing from my mouth. There aren't many others left—only three fights rage on, leaving no other opponent.

Except one.

Across the field, one of the fights comes to an abrupt end as a small wolf falls, dropping to his knees in submission. The other huffs down at him and retreats, his head raised, openly projecting his pride. My eyes trace his movements, watching the large male wolf, his fur a deep silver, step back into the clearing. He glances at the other fight with mild interest before his gaze flickers in my direction. I lean forward, baring my teeth, presenting my challenge. This is it.

The male hesitates, and for the smallest fraction of a second, worry lights up his gaze. But as his dark eyes zero in on my teeth, all bits of worry disappears. With a grunt, he saunters forward, his body lowering with each roll of a shoulder that brings him closer. I pick up on the slight angle of his body—there's a limp on his left side.

His head extends as he nears, bouncing his weight from one side to the other indecisively. I remain motionless, only waiting. A pre-battle heat passes between us and washes over me, recharging my body.

And all at once, my opponent attacks.

He lunges, his teeth aimed to catch me right in the jugular, but I'm expecting this. I throw myself at him, my front half rising off the ground as I slam against him. The force of our bodies jolts us up in their air and we're both on our hind legs, snapping and snarling and shoving. My opponent swings his head wildly, his teeth straining for a grip. I take advantage of this movement and toss my head into the air. He reaches forward to catch my exposed neck, giving me my chance—I drive my head down, meeting his skull with a bone-crushing force.

A burst of pain explodes in my head, powerful and real though only a reflection. We both topple down to the ground together. I land on top of my opponent while he's still rolling and have to lurch in the opposite direction to avoid being trapped. I'm quick to pull myself back onto my paws, finding my footing in the wet ground. I pivot back the moment I'm balanced, moving with lightning speed as I charge the silver male.

With an enraged snarl, he dives toward me again. I duck and return the lunge with a powerful blow from my shoulder. For a moment, our bodies strain against one another, hot breath panting on my side, before my opponent loses his grip and stumbles, somewhat dazed. I twist and throw myself at his sides, aimed for his unsteady legs.

I step aside and watch as my opponent drops like a stone.

It's all over. I've won.

But I'm not done yet.

While the male struggles to regain his footing, I strike, colliding with his form and knocking him onto his stomach. We wrestle, rolling and grappling in the mud. I don't back down, even as his struggle grows weaker and weaker and blood spills into my gnashing jaws.

Finally, heaving his weight forward in a final attempt, the wolf frees my grip, prying my teeth from his neck. I throw my weight back at him, sending him skidding through the mushy ground. As I wheel around, I pause, my paws slowing.

My opponent isn't fighting back anymore. Instead, he leans against a torn tree, his shoulder propped up against the thick trunk. He's breathing loudly, not bothering to move, even though his determination still lingers. There isn't any way for him to return—he's been banished by the boundary. It's all over for him.

The dark eyes of the wolf are weary. His stare is heavy. Inside his irises, the dark blue glaze of my wild eyes shine. As I stare, something inside me retreats and with it, my crazed persistence is diminished.

With a sharp bark, I leave the male behind and dive back into the clearing.

My eyes search for any other challenge, but find no fight to be fought. The empty clearing is silent, the mud imprinted with layers of paw prints, each facing in different directions. Many have been smeared and deformed, but none show signs of continuing struggles. The other fights have ended, leaving only two other wolves remaining. I raise my lip, finding them standing near the hill. Neither shows any sign of the slightest aggression. Both are frozen stiff, staring into each other's eyes with a horrified realization.

The bigger of the two, a russet male, is frozen beside a broken boulder. His body curves around it, as if he had been stalled in the middle of his charge. The other, a silver female, stands braced in a crouch, ready to defend herself against the threat that won't ever hit. Her eyes are widened and flooded with dread. Both of their minds are a flashing panic, weighed with the searing pain of the thought of committing the biggest crime; a crime that would cripple them both—one hurting the other.

As I stare, my gaze passing between the two of them, I push myself out of my fighting stance. There isn't any fight left—his is the end of the battle.

My ears flick, sensing a small breeze of sudden movement. I turn my head toward the hill just as Jared bounds to the top, stopping at the curve beside the edge and pushing himself up to his full height. His dark eyes are troubled as he takes in the sight of the pair of frozen wolves. He doesn't even seem to notice my presence, as if I'm nothing more than thin air.

Moments later, Sam creeps up beside the brown wolf. He does so carefully, almost as if he has no desire to have any part of this. At first, only the lines of his flattened ears are visible, and then the rest of him slowly appears as he walks to the peak of the hill. Sam's eyes don't so much as twitch in my direction—he stares down at wolves below him, waiting, his mind nearly empty.

Eventually, Nicole lifts her head. She meets Sam's eyes with worry, her body unmoving. Jacob follows her gaze, his shoulders hunched below the quiet stream of doubts filling Nicole's head. They both wait, silent.

Sam releases a heavy breath through his muzzle, an unfamiliar emotion flickering in his irises. For the briefest moment, his gaze turns in my direction, acknowledging my presence with a short look of indecision, before his dark eyes rest on the two wolves below him.

With a final sigh, Sam forces out the words that put out the fire within me.

_I. . . It's over. This is all over and I'm proud to declare Jacob Black the alpha of the pack, with my daughter, Nicole Uley, by his side._


	53. The Final Four

_"Stop losing, losing_  
 _Keep rising to the top."_  - Keni Burke.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Three

The Final Four

* * *

Sam's thought lingers, popping and sizzling in my ears before fading into a hushed simmer. His posture droops and his head lowers as if a great weight has been lifted off his back. Then, with deliberate ease, he shakes his coat clean and carries himself down the slope and out into the clearing, resigning his claim to the throne.

The two wolves below the hill have yet to move. Their eyes are set on the large black wolf, wide with shocked disbelief. The moment Sam's paws are firmly planted against the muddy ground, the russet and silver wolf come slowly and turn their heads just enough to lock gazes. They stare for a long moment, frozen, before meeting in a joyful embrace, suddenly animated once again. The russet male rumbles, laying his broad head against the silver neck of his companion, openly displaying the affection swarming through him with a throaty bark of laughter.

I snort at the sight.  _Damn, doesn't that just warm the cockles of my heart._

Each head snaps up, as if they've all forgotten my presence. I bristle under the fixture of their gazes. Beneath the skin, I'm blistering, and the weight of the stares only lashes further at my control. Fury clouds my vision as I scowl back at them, nearly unable to contain myself.

_To hell with it._  The thought leaves my mind and sends the rest into a spiral, as if it's been acting as a base to hold the brewing storm inside my skull. A low whimper runs through the gathered wolves as a burst of white-hot anger explodes in my head and scatters into their own.

_Wait._

I perk my ears at the sound of Sam's thought, though my body remains set and ready to move. Jacob shakes his head slowly, catching onto something unsaid. Sam ignores it and he leans back, lowering himself down slightly before speaking.

_There is uneven power._

Nicole paws at the ground, suddenly anxious. Sam shoots her a warning look, but it has no immediate effect on her anymore, and her thoughts flow freely.  _There will always be uneven power. It can't be distributed evenly_. She pulls up the crushing feeling of the alpha's command, putting it on display for the rest of us to see.

_Very true. But._  Jared lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting Nicole's.  _Jacob has a female by his side—there is an alpha male, and an alpha female. And I don't have anyone to share this position with._

_Exactly._ Sam nods, though his thoughts come warily, as if he is suppressing himself. _There is only one suitable wolf left to fill the spot._

I huff under my breath in agreement. Some part of me feels satisfied—the spilled blood isn't wasted. Another boils, demanding to take power and refusing to let anything block my path. Jacob and Nicole exchange a look, uncertain.

Finally, Jacob dips his head, though his gaze doesn't move.  _We might need the help._

Nicole breathes a wolfish sigh. Straightening her shoulders, she nods in confirmation while avoiding my eyes. Sam looks between the three of us before taking a few paces backward and bowing his head—a gesture of invitation.

_Go on._

Jacob steps aside, allowing Nicole to brush past him. He swiftly falls in step next to her, winding around the side of the hill and disappearing into the trees. Jared follows, right on their heels. I allow a comfortable space to form before jogging forward to take my place. Sam's muzzle wrinkles in a sort of smile as I pass, his eyes lit with the proud light of a father.

Nicole and Jacob climb to the peak of the hill, claiming their positions with their heads held high. Jared positions himself off to the left, raising himself to stand tall while keeping a respectful distance. I step in place on the right side of the hill and am instantly greeted by on a soft breeze. The fingers of the wind run through my thick fur before wrapping around my nostrils, carrying the scent of wolves. I glance down at the torn, trampled clearing. Finding it empty, I instantly turn my attention on the swaying trees.

One by one, glimmers of various-colored figures fill the spaces between the shadows as the rest of the pack comes forward. The paws padding on the undergrowth squish through the mud as they cautiously come closer. The pack creeps into the clearing with the graceful silence, moving together, as a whole. Bright eyes raise toward the hill, taking in the sight of the new leaders stationed above. The fur of many coats still stands on end; strides stumble and uneasy growls slip through muzzles. Some minds buzz with excitement—like Seth's, who can barely contain the excitement triggered by the site of Jacob in his pride and glory—while others, like Paul's, grumble resentfully with the knowledge of what could have been.

Despite the differing opinions, as each wolf steps in place below the hill, every knee folds and each head lowers. The line of bodies drop into a bow, one by one. Above me, I hear Jacob's unsure rumble, followed by Nicole's huff of approval. Jared remains indifferent, though even I can sense the slightest silver of respect in the gesture—earned respect.

After a moment of silence, I throw back my head, releasing a powerful howl that rips through the quiet night. The voices of the pack raise below it, climbing higher and higher into the dark sky. I empty my lungs before dropping my head and snapping my teeth. My eyes scan the wolves in the clearing as they finish their own songs. Most of the wolves' bodies sag as they finish, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.

As silence settles, the pack begins to melt back into their human skin. There isn't much conversation other than the awkward shuffle of the runts and the occasional mumbled comment. Only Leah doesn't bother to phase back—she waits on the edge of the clearing, her dark eyes trained on her little brother as he checks the button on his cut-offs before trotting over to his sister with a huge grin. They disappear into the trees together, side by side.

I don't bother to wait for the rest of the pack to go their separate ways. I lunge off the hill, landing in a crouch, my bare feet pressed firmly into the mud. Shaking out my hair, I pull my clothes free from the tie on my ankle and yank them over my body in a matter of seconds.

I blow out a short breath before taking in my surroundings. None of the pack seem to have taken notice—most of them are dragging their feet toward the edge of the clearing, their backs turned and unattentive. I shift my shoulders, neutralizing my stance. Just as I do, my ears pick up on a hushed conversation just above my head. I grit my teeth as my gaze wanders back up toward the hill. Though I can't see beyond the peak of the hill, I can clearly pick out the source of the voices.

"I know, I know," Jacob whispers. "But we can let it slide. Just this once."

"We can't, Jacob," Nicole insists. "This is could only lead to something more. Especially with the power she has, she—"

The rest of Nicole's sentence remains unspoken. There's only the sound of heavy heartbeats for a moment, then a shuffle of feet sloppily stomping through the brush and up the slope. Nicole mutters her irritation to herself as the footsteps grow louder.

"Hey, Jake!" Quil crows. "Congrats, man!"

"Yeah, man," Embry echoes. There's a slap, sharp like the sudden contact of skin—Embry claps him on the shoulder. "Congrats."

"Thanks, guys."

"Anytime, bro. You need any help and I got your back."

I can hear the forced smile straining Jacob's tone as he speaks again. "Yeah, thanks. Means a lot."

There's a moments pause—a sudden stillness—before Embry breaks it with a loud yawn. "Jeez, it's getting really late. See ya around, Jake."

With that, the stomping begins, hurriedly fading off into the distance.

Jacob blows out a heavy sigh of relief. "Where were we?"

"Jacob," Nicole murmurs. I tip my head to the side, having to stretch my hearing to catch her words. "She's  _right there_."

Seconds later, Jacob and Nicole's heads peek over the side of the slope. I force a cheesy smile up at them. "I have two working ears, you know."

Nicole swallows, her light eyes set on Jacob as she speaks. "Hey, Jordan. . ."

Jacob half-turns, holding Nicole's gaze as he does so. The bare muscles on his back are tight and trembling. Nicole casts a frantic look in his direction as he takes a step away from her. With a sight, Jacob pauses, placing a hand on the side of her cheek.

"I'll be back," he promises. And just like that, he lunges into the darkness, disappearing in a shot of russet.

Nicole stares after him for a long moment, her lips turned into a frown, before she returns her attention on me. Her eyes run up and down my body, flickering to the glittering ring on my finger one time too many. I curl my fingers into my palm and fix her with an expectant expression. She shakes her head, sighs, and slowly slides down the side of the hill, climbing toward the ground feet-first.

"So, why'd you do it?" Nicole begins. She bites her lip, hesitating before carefully placing her feet on the ground and looking up. Her icy eyes sharpen, focusing as she speaks. "Was it for money?"

I raise a brow in question, holding her stare evenly. My mind scatters for a moment before pulling together slowly, forcing me to think before speaking. "You think I give a damn if my pockets are empty? I don't fight for pay, Nicole. I have no need for any benefit."

Nicole's expression twists, shaping to show her confusion. "Then what was it for? No, tell me this—what are you trying to prove?"

Her persistence pierces my core, filling me with sudden fever. I grind my teeth, feeling my skin heat and my eyes narrow. "Just what do you think I'm after? An award?"

" _Clearly_ ," Nicole scoffs, "You want _something_. Why else would you even  _try_  to—"

My nostrils flare, releasing a flame of breath. I raise my voice above Nicole's as I speak. "What the  _hell_  do you want me to say? 'Oh, sorry, didn't mean to kick ass. I'll surely play nice next time we're all ripping each other's throats out.'"

"Oh, don't even start to play stupid!" Nicole throws her hands up for emphasis, though she promptly drops them as her eyes flicker into my own. Sighing, she pinches the bridge of her nose and inhales deeply.

"Jordan, we all know about you and . . . him vandalizing pack property. You don't have to hide it, especially as a leader. But you have to know that if you're going to be a leader, you need to be more responsible, and wrecking sheds for fun is not very responsible."

I stare straight into Nicole's eyes as she speaks, her voice roaring in my ears like the echoing blast of an explosion. The words ring in the thick air between us before pounding through my skull.  _Vandalizing pack property._

Suddenly, realization strikes and the fever disappears, melting back into my veins. I lean back, straightening my stance and allowing a half-smile to lighten my expression. "So that's the rumor, is it?"

Nicole frowns, her eyebrows pulling together. "Rumor?" she repeats.

Something that's almost a smirk spreads across my lips. "We weren't screwing the shed."

"Wha—"

It takes her a second, but Nicole quickly catches on to the meaning of my words. Her cheeks flush, tinting her copper skin a darker hue as her eyes flare wide. I swear I hear her heart stutter as shock encases her, punching the breath from her lungs like a hard blow to the gut.

Her mouth opens and closes, her words exiting in a series of  _bu—how—you—they—I's,_ each syllable stumbling over the next as she struggles to speak. Finally, she pauses to collect herself, grabbing her hair in tight fists.

"You can't be serious. You're _joking_ , right?"

I nod, waving a hand as if to dismiss the thought. "Yeah, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure we were just playing an overly friendly round of Uno."

Nicole lunges suddenly, knocking aside the hands that raise in front of me as she catches my shoulders, gripping them tightly; shaking me. "Jordan, listen to me. You can't do something like that. It's too much. Too much of a risk, especially for you. He could bite you or hurt you. Jordan, he. . ."

I hear Nicole's voice as she speaks, but suddenly, she's far away. The buzz returns in my veins, and I can feel the pulse of heat radiating off my neck and burning my ears. My jaw locks as my eyes darken and, in a viciously sudden movement, my fist swings forward and meets her nose with an audible crunch.

Taken by surprise, Nicole stumbles, her eyes popped with shock. I snarl—a twisted, feral threat—before driving my knee up into the space between her ribs. Nicole throws her arms toward the sky, but it's not enough to catch herself. She crashes down into the sodden ground, landing hard on her side.

The only sounds in the clearing are the gasping, desperate rhythm of Nicole's breathing and the slurp of the mud as she rolls onto her back. I hold my ground, my teeth bared and my shoulders hunched, dragged down by the weight of the wolf inside. It's clawing its way out of me, inch by inch. Tears spike the edges of Nicole's eyes as she lifts her head, still wheezing as she tries to find her voice. I only stare, feeling nothing but the heat flaring up my spine.

"J-Just ke-ep him a-away."

Despite the weak stutter of her voice, Nicole's command binds me immediately, smashing my will to bits. I nod once, turning and twisting in one movement, my paws throwing me back into motion the instant they brush the ground.

I run alone.

I'm nothing but a surge of strength, muscle and heat and power blasting through the drizzly winds. Miles and miles disappear behind me, yet I don't pause, not even for the biggest boulders or the thickest trees. The world flattens out beneath me, seeming to burst into ash as I charge by.

Hell. This feels like hell, raging hot enough that I don't doubt that the world is being devoured in flames. The monster is ravenous, having inched its way back into my bloodstream, clinging to the last bits of adrenaline wandering through my system. My mind is a muddled mess of senseless thought and absent reason, fueled with the crave of revenge.

There aren't any other minds connecting to my own—nothing to force me to go any further. The rest of the pack must have crashed at home, having the rest of the night to escape into sleep. The black of night surrounds me, closing in tighter and tighter as I plunge further into the endless stretch of wilderness. Eventually, I slow my pace, tossing my head and huffing hot puffs of breath through my muzzle.

I have to jog in a tight circle, my claws tearing deep into the soil and my muscles spasming until I manage to gather myself enough to lift my head and breathe in the scene around me. I pull in a breath of air, though it barely reaches my nostrils before I stop short. A glimmer distracts my gaze, causing me to exhale sharply and reposition myself to get a better look.

A round spot of yellow warmth glows in the distance. It's a light, shining through the darkness and bringing out the spitting drops of rain sprinkling in the air around it. Straining my vision, I make out the orderly line of stacked logs bordered around it—a wall.

My paws move on their own, bringing me closer to the soft gleam. I'm soundless in motion, creeping through the forest without disturbing the slimmest bit of brush, until I pause just outside the treeline. Rain patters lightly against my coat as my eyes run across the cabin-like house, taking in the sight of it. It's nothing special, but as my eyes trail further, I feel the fur along my neck bristle, my ears flattening and my lip curling in a silent snarl.

The house isn't empty. In the open doorway stands a girl with a rifle raised to her shoulder, her fingers awkwardly wrapped around the trigger while a trembling hand aims the point straight at my face.

 


	54. Ten Ways Backwards

_"I can barely swim_  
And the current's coming in  
And the current's coming in again." - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Four

Ten Ways Backwards

* * *

There are many things that might go through any sane mind when faced with the presence of a bullet. Maybe the bullet could actually kill me. Maybe it would only leave a bloody mess. Either way, I don't consider any consequences during those few seconds of tension. Only one word forms in my mind with a vicious realization.

_Threat._

The girl's features purely show Quileute blood, but that's meaningless. She trembles, her breath quivering, her voice trapped in her throat. Her dark eyes shine with fear as she closes one eye and lifts the rifle, the tip bouncing slightly as her finger fumbles to find the trigger.

I launch myself forward without a heartbeat's hesitation. The girl gasps and ducks, taking the impact of my charge in her shoulder. She collapses instantly, sprawled against the wall. She blinks rapidly in shock, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I snarl a fierce warning, about to advance when a sudden movement catches my eye.

A hulking figure sprints out from the doorway, nearly blasting the door clean off its hinges. The man skids to a stop on the porch, his gaze connecting with my own before he whips his head to the side. The second he takes in the sight of her, his heartbeat pauses, his breath hitching. His dark eyes snap over to mine again and he lets out a roaring shout, the words lost as his body twists and bows, ripping apart as he explodes.

His heavy paws land on the porch. The grey wolf shakes out his coat as he settles into his form before coming at me in a charge of bared teeth and enraged snarls, not bothering to think about tactic as he forces himself between the girl and me. I catch his shoulder in my jaws before he hits, twisting as he collides with me. We topple down the stairs together, landing hard in the wet grass.

The grapple doesn't last long. Paul hits the ground on his stomach, and I'm there before he can react. I get him by the throat, closing my jaws around his broad neck and leaning my weight forward to pin him there. My mind sings with the need to defend myself, blazing hot and real. Paul throws his shoulder at me, his muffled growls growing weaker and weaker as my teeth cut deeper into his skin, my own snarls muffled by the mouthful of fur. This continues on for a good few minutes until finally, Paul's struggles come to an end. I release his neck with a huff and slam my weight into his side. He rolls over in the grass, laying still for a moment before shrinking into his human form in the blink of an eye.

I remain silent as Paul groans, not bothering to shield his exposed body. Instead, he places a hand on his rib cage, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. He pats the red healing lines on his throat before pressing his hand into his side. Paul winces, whistling.

"Hurts like a bitch," he grumbles.

As the heat of the moment ebbs away, I rumble low in my throat. Paul shoots a questioning look my way but doesn't comment. His head snaps up just as a shrill cry fills the air. I snap my gaze over to the porch. The girl stands on wobbly legs, a hand clamped over her mouth as she gapes, stricken with horror.

"Oh my God! I— Oh my  _God_! Paul!"

"Shit." Paul glances from the girl to me with a grimace. His eyes dart to the forest before meeting mine for a split second. He strains his neck to look up on the porch with a grimace, returning his attention the frantic girl.

 _Go_. I hear the words in his eyes. Not an order, just a question. I shake my head with a huff, jogging into the humid forest. I'll wait, but I won't go. As I disappear into the trees, I cast a final glance over my shoulder. Paul, dragging himself up by his elbows while the girl rushes toward him, angles his head slightly to find my gaze and nod.

I wait in the light drizzle. Pacing keeps me focused. I pad back and forth in the shadows, just inside the treeline. My mind is mine alone as the rest of the pack remains silent. I don't feel time pass—one moment, I'm pacing by myself in the trees, nearing the warm light of the house, and the next I'm coming to a stop as I sense movement.

The sliding door slips open as Paul shoulders out into the backyard, a shadow against the dull light. He holds clothing in his hands again, though he's barefoot and wearing only pajama pants. He steps into the yard slowly, his eyes searching.

Once Paul comes to a halt at the edge, I make my presence known. I approach him with a huff, stepping up to stand in front of him, my head tilted down. He almost smiles as he sees me, dropping the clothes at my feet before taking a step back.

"I'll be inside if you wanna talk."

Paul turns back around, jogging toward the door. I watch him with narrowed eyes before falling into my human form and pulling on the loose shirt and small shorts. I call out after him before he reaches the house.

"So that's it, then? No shouting match or tearing down the forest?"

Paul slows. He glances over his shoulder with a smirk playing on his lips. "You've already met the girl here, haven't you?"

"If you're talking about the one shrieking on the porch, then I guess I've had the honor," I say evenly. Something is different about Paul, although I can't figure out what the hell it is.

With a laugh, Paul turns to face me. He shrugs calmly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Her name is Rachel. She's. . . well, she's my girl."

I hold Paul's gaze. There isn't anything that says 'I'm kidding' in his tone—even his eyes show seriousness, though they're brightened with a sort of relaxed, easy light. I remember his face when he came to see me the first time to apologize—the way his expression has been so at ease, even through the tension as he handed me that bagel just a few days ago. I can see the reason in it now—the forfeiting in his actions.

As the pieces come together, I don't speak. I pop my knuckles, letting out a short breath and shifting my stance over the brittle ground beneath me. Paul grins, pulling a hand free to rub the back of his neck.

"Rachel is Jake's sister. I ran into her on Third Beach the other day. I guess she kinda found me there, but it was all accident, ya know? It just happened out of nowhere. . . it's okay with Billy, but Jake's a little riled up about the whole imprinting thing." Paul snorts. "Not like he has room to talk."

As he finishes talking, Paul drops his gaze to the ground, his expression becoming clouded with uncertainty. "You're not all riled up about it though. Right?"

I shake my head slowly. The trees around me are swaying, just like the balance of my control. "Not at all."

Paul looks at me oddly, though he continues on without questioning. "So beta female, huh? Not bad." Paul smirks, getting a smug look on his face. "Even though King Paul has a better ring to it."

I snort, muttering under my breath, "More like pack piss on."

"What?" Paul glowers, disbelieving. "You're kidding. You got  _beta._  Be proud of it."

I have to exhale and shift my stance to keep myself still. I hold Paul's stare with a burning insistence. "It's not like that. They put me in a position that almost has control, but it's no mystery what they're really doing." I work my jaw for a moment. "They don't think I've proved shit. I'll run the errands too simple for the rest and be out of the way otherwise. It's how it works, Paul."

Paul frowns at me, his lips parted slightly though they form no words. I look over his shoulder as a light turns on. The glass door slides open as the girl—Rachel—leans out.

"Are you out here?"

Paul smirks at me for a moment, his voice lowered to a whisper. "Can you cover for me in the morning? I'm gonna have a shitload of sucking up to do before I explain all this—"

Rachel calls out again, her voice raised shakily. "Paul?"

"Coming!" Paul mutters something to himself, shooting me a final hopeful look before he turns and jogs back toward the house.

"Why the hell not?" I speak to myself now as Paul jogs out of earshot. Without reason to stay, I turn back around and slip back into the forest without looking back.

I run through the thick walls of the heavy air, my lungs swollen with all the breath I drag in, trying to gather up as much as I can. I'm moving only on instinct, barely thinking about the steps of my feet or the silence of my body. I don't pause for a moment, not missing a single stride as I transition from wolf to human in the blink of an eye, slipping into my clothing in another.

My nostrils burn with a bittersweet bite as I near the tree line. Dim grey light spills through the spaces between the towering trees. A breeze flutters the leaves, arousing the stomach-churning stench of leech from the yard. I move closer anyway, inhaling slightly as I break through the space between two oaks.

I find him instantly. He's on the porch, leaning against the railing with his thumbs hooked in his jeans, dry and flawless as he stares at the very place I've come from. He grins broadly, jumping down and breezing toward me. My ears buzz as he speaks, blocking out his words though I feel him pick me up, spin me around, and kiss my lips.

Somehow I manage to say something to him. His golden gaze holds mine as he chuckles, setting my feet back down onto the soft earth. Through the woozy ring, I feel myself start to move as Emmett takes my hand and heads for the house, his head turned over his shoulder. His mouth moves, forming silent sounds.

There are others in the house. The smallest is on her feet, greeting the two of us with a chirpy enthusiasm. I fix my gaze on her as Emmett pauses. She flashes a venom-coated smile as she takes a step toward me, though the look on my face melts it right off.

The others gaze at Emmett, their stares searing. He speaks again, his voice muffled by the ringing. The honey-haired leech rises to his feet, collecting the small pixie into his side. Emmett winks before pulling us along again, guiding the two of us up the stairs.

My head pounds, beating against the outer edges of my skull. I numbly lift my legs, placing one foot on each stair as Emmett leads the climb upwards. The stairs stretch and grow, swallowing my feet as they come in contact. I'm tilted to the side, about to collapse, when finally, Emmett reaches the top and pulls me into his side.

He pauses after a moment, holding me to him as he studies my face. With the passing time, the pounding dulls to a quiet thrum and the piercing ring subsides. Once it clears, I offer Emmett a slight smile. He returns it with a bright expression, like a lightbulb lit in a midnight shadow.

"Why don't we clean you up?" Emmett suggests, as if there's any chance that I might resist.

I don't.

The water is hot, the air clean, and the space small. Our clothes are forgotten on the floor, crumpled in a small heap. Emmett treats me to the soap, washing a nice handful through my hair and over my skin, testing but not teasing. I study the droplets of water that cling to his marble skin, running down his naked body like tears. Emmett chuckles as my gaze wanders.

"You know, the rest of them have left. We have the place to ourselves."

"We do," I say, because for some reason, I'm forgetting how to breathe right.

Emmett smiles, closing his eyes and allowing me to lather soap around his neck and shoulders. His hair is raven black in contrast. Suds run down, chased out of his curls by the spray. I try hard to pay attention to his shoulders, but the feeling of his gaze on my face gets the better of me.

His eyes narrow as I glance at him. His irises are black with hunger all over again. A low purr starts in his throat as my hands freeze, my fingers clenching into his shoulders. The spray hisses above us as I slowly press him back against the wall, holding his gaze as I offer my kiss.

My advance leads to the mistake. As the heat hits, Emmett catches the back of my thighs, lifting my legs around him as he presses my back against the wall. He tilts his head to accept my offer, but before he does, he growls sharply.

The instant the sound reaches my ears, the world collapses around me. My pupils dilate, capturing every ounce of light possible as my vision is washed with red. My muscles bunch, releasing the fire in me, preparing my body for attack in a split second. I close my hands around Emmett's head, holding him away as I heave my weight forward in a sudden, violet movement.

With a crash, the shower door explodes, sending glass flying in every direction. My feet brace on the slippery surface beneath them as my hands press into the walls of the shower. As the glass settles, my gaze lowers to the body laying motionless on the floor.

I don't speak. My heart jumps into my throat, beating madly as I slowly step out of the shower, one leg at a time. My feet sting as glass pricks the surface, but I pay no mind. I stand over Emmett's crumpled form, my blood running cold.

Emmett's body lays flat on the floor, his neck twisted back at an awkward angle. The muscles around his throat twitch as they heal, though it's clear that it's going to be long and painful. As I stare, my hands ball into fists, nodding my head as the monster within me grabs at the last bit of my control. Emmett's dark eyes flicker in my direction, boring into me as I fall apart.

()()()

Somehow, my legs manage to hold my body upright. I lean against against the battered wall, busted wide open with angry grooves and the holes of balled fists. I'm sticky beneath the dry coat of soap and hot inside my pulsing veins. I'm alive, everywhere at once, yet suddenly certain that I'm dangerously close to death's outstretched hand.

There's nothing but a drumming noise inside my skull. The repetitive  _bum, bum; boom, crash_ ing of a broken rhythm. My lungs ache, begging me to fill them up. But I'm so  _empty_. Hollowness is no stranger to me, but this void of absence consistently swelling in my core can't be ignored.

Especially while he watches me.

The sharp yellow of his eyes have dulled, watered down and washed out with grief. He's just as trapped as I am—stuck between that small gap between life and nothingness. Right now, he is a stranger with a name tag taped to his gaze. I see Emmett in his irises, but this twisted, motionless man at my feet can't be him.

The longer he watches, the larger the emptiness grows until eventually, it starts to fill. It isn't solid space that moves into the emptiness. It's round after round of shuddering fury, rolling down from my skull and into my stomach. Emmett's chest starts to rise and fall with unnecessary breath, his eyes blinking infrequently though his lips are a gaping silence.

I can't see him there. Not even as his fingertips twitch and his palm rolls in my direction. Instead, I stare down at the torn and trampled ground below, holding the watery ice of my sister's steady stare as she trembles, stinking of fear. I clench my dry eyes shut, holding them closed as if it can erase the scene before me. When they open, I'm greeted again by the sight of the man at my feet, his throat nearly turned backwards even though his body lays flat.

His condition sends a jolt through me, but it disappears into the curling waves of fury again. I press my fingers into my palm, my nails cutting the skin and sticking in deep, holding me together. I'm on the verge of something, though whether it's collapsing or throwing up my guts, I don't know.

My right foot brings me back. I drop my gaze to the white floor, taking in the sight of my bare foot, trapped in the white hold of a hand. My eyes follow the trail of the muscular arm back to the owner's face. He raises his head as I look at him, the movement slow and careful. When I don't react, the man sits up, pausing for another moment before rising to his feet.

I assess the man's movements, but find no significance in them. I only grade his expression, taking notes on the side. He has enough sense to create a small distance and keep his hands lifted in front of himself. Even though he appears to be ready to protect himself, his countenance is hardened with focus. He pulls in a breath, and in its release, speaks a whisper.

"Jordan?"

 _Jordan._  I might want to know who she is, but the sound of his voice is the only thing I process. He extends a hand toward me as I don't move, the tips of his fingers brushing the bare skin of my arm. The touch triggers the loaded barrel inside of me and I explode.

My knees disappear and I go down. The ground welcomes me with a crunch, throwing me forward, onto my stomach. I growl against the cool ground, pushing myself up onto my arms. I breathe loudly, huffing through my open mouth as the air gags me.

Something inside me has twisted. My stomach lurches again and a hand grabs at my flat stomach, failing to find a grip. A grinding, brittle spasm rocks my body. I claw at my skin, dying to tear out the problem from the source.

I don't have a voice. I gnash my teeth and stretch my free hand across the floor, though it only smears across the surface and hangs loosely at my side. The world tilts, teeters, then tumbles over itself, throwing me into a mad spiral. I hack out another breath and wheeze another one in. My lungs contract, crushed by the force pushing up and out of my body. I stare into scarlet, capturing another breath and holding it in until I pin frantic words.

"Get it  _out_!" I demand heatedly, throwing out the order at the top of my lungs. "It's still  _in there_!"

I roll again, smacked against the wall of my cage. I thrash in the bars, my stomach heaving as my eyes fail me. The world is slipping through my finger tips as my body scalds itself, erupting with a spiked fury that's tearing me apart and bleeding my dry. There's only one thing left to hang on to as I lean over the edge.

"Jordan!"

I still can't piece together who the hell this person is, but the voice—the voice is real. I repeat the sound in my ears, a sharp ring over the rolling thunder of my heartbeat. My shoulders jerk, racking my frame with shudders. I suck in another breath through the tiny space between my jaw. The air sparks life into my lungs and my eyes jump open.

The man is inches away. His hands are holding me by the elbows, shaking with the tremors that pass into him through contact. His cool breath, a sweet relief on my boiling temperature, irritates my skin and causes a flash of heat to strike my spine, hot to my blood even though I'm already sweating out my flames. I start to growl at him, my lip raising in warning, but the fall of his hopeful expression stops me. I roll my head back and give a low groan that's not human or animal, but trapped in the lost continuum between.

I disappear into a haze. Through it, spots of white appear, a flurry of sudden movement and an assault of desperate voices. A pair of golden stones find my gaze, blurred out through the foggy mist laying over me. They hold me in place as time passes, injecting a shot of ice into my skull. I want to reach out and grab the golden stones; to turn and crush them in my grip, but I'm weighed down by a sudden feeling of relief.

After an eternity, my shoulders droop and all movement ceases. I close my eyes, breathe in, and re-enter the world once more.

The first thing I notice is the sweat. My skin is cleaner now, though I've sweat out all the heat, producing a soapy scent. The next thing I find is the golden stones—the narrowed eyes of Jasper as he locks eyes with me. Behind him stands Carlisle, riddled with worry. I'm pressed against something cold and hard, my naked body shielded by its smooth surface. I don't allow my gaze to be distracted, but I do pick out the line of Emmett's nose near my face and slowly acknowledge the feel of his body against my own.

"That's enough," Emmett says lowly. His deep voice is hushed as he turns his head away from his brother. "Thanks, though. I really owe you one."

Jasper doesn't bother to linger. He nods curtly, exiting the room without a moment's hesitation. I immediately redirect my attention on Carlisle. He sighs as I pierce him with a silent warning, taking one step backward before he talks.

"Emmett, you do understand that this incident has shown clear symptoms of mental tra—"

Something stops him. I can't tell what it is, but I can only imagine the look on Emmett's face—a look that shuts the Doc himself up in a split second. Carlisle frowns, but smiles in respect as he slips out of the bathroom, leaving us alone.

Silence follows. We stay together, crouched on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours passed, counted only by the sound of our slow breathing. After a while, Emmett stands in one fluid movement, gently pulling me up with him.

Emmett holds me up, guiding the two of us through the doorway and into his bedroom. I don't struggle, allowing him to lead me to the far end of the bed and lowers me gently, moving my body into place. He smiles slightly, though it barely passes through the layer of worry.

Darting across the room in a split second, Emmett slides in on the opposite side, a cold presence felt on my back. He stretches out above the covers, casually crossing his arms behind his head. The arm closest to me hangs loosely, offering space for me to slip in. Some part of me is dying to turn over, wrap around him, and escape into unconsciousness. The other tells me I'm a dumbass for even considering it.

I lay on the very edge of the bed, leaving only a centimeter of space between me and a free-fall toward the floor. My hair drenches the pillow, creating a warm, wet spot for my head to lay. I keep my arms to myself, one trapped beneath my ribcage, the other slung over the bedside. I've clamped one hand on the frame of the bed, exerting as much pressure as I can without causing damage, channeling every dark, bloody thought from my skull and into my grip.

As we lay tense in the darkness, Emmett begins to talk. My eyes are trained on the clear glass of the window, staring into the silhouettes of the towering trees beyond. Emmett doesn't seem to require my full attention—he speaks in a low tone, his words coming smoothly as if he isn't bothering to think before moving his lips.

"Everything's real crazy right now. I mean, my family's in a panic because of the army that's supposed to be building in Seattle, and we might have to intervene soon. I don't get why there's a wait, though—it's not like we have anything better to do during the day. 'Sides, I'd ditch class to kick ass anyday.

"I know it's crazy for you too. Your whole pack's fucked up and it's starting to drive you into the deep end. I mean, you gotta be feeling that something's coming and that's stressful enough. Then we have to try to stay together 'cause it won't happen naturally. I don't think you mind fighting for this, and I don't either. But I'd want it to be easier you, and the both of us. So I can make you better."

Emmett pauses for a long moment. I don't move my gaze, even though I've taken in every word, and understand every bit, I can't find my voice. Emmett tips his head back, leaning it against the headboard as he continues talking without the slightest bit of hurt.

"We will marry someday. I'll call you Mrs. McCarty, because you won't be a Cullen, and I won't force you to be. You'll be just mine, and you won't have to share me, either. It'll just be the two of us and all the craziness, but I'll make it so we can still be happy with the wild shit that happens. Well, unless you wanna adopt kids. . . yeah, I didn't think you did. That's all cool with me, though. I don't think I'd be up for the whole parenting deal either."

Emmett trails off. With it comes a silence broken only by the light drumming of his fingertips. His words hang in the air between us, unsettled, until finally, he finishes his one-sided conversation with a short laugh.

"It's gonna be worth it all someday, and that's good enough for me."


	55. Heat

_"It's so damn dark in here, I can't see in front of me_  
 _My flames have all burnt out, my hopes no part of my reality."_  - Deadly Weapons.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Five

Heat

* * *

I've never found time to be of much importance to me—the endless cycle of dimming and brightening in the grey skies are my clock. I can't see the sky from the bed, but I do know that time passes, eons and eons of sluggish seconds lapsing over one another. I know I'm not suspended in an ocean of nothingness because as these seconds disappear, my hand—still closed firmly around the bed frame—starts to ache. It's nothing at first, but as the seconds wear on, the ache becomes a throbbing that refuses to ease.

Eventually, my body commands release. I relax my fingers one by one, hearing my knuckles pop with each sudden movement until eventually, the throbbing dulls. I pull my arm back, folding it against my body and holding it there. Once the small tremble of the bed springs quiets, I allow myself to breathe again.

I try to, at least.

There's an anchor in the bottom of my heart. It weighs me down, pressing the air clean out of my lungs. Each tiny drag brings another round of sawdust-like dryness toward the brim of my throat. The heat of my body triggers another sweat, coating me in a layer of perspiration. My veins begin to tingle as the heat stirs the wolf inside.

Even though I'm very familiar with the antics of the heat, I lay motionless. My relief is somewhere behind me, just as still and silent. My chest constricts. He's crazy for staying here, possibly even more than I am. The rope between us has been strained, pulled to a breaking point. Yet under the conditions that should have snapped it, a knot has formed, binding us together with a solid certainty.

My body refuses to acknowledge the bind. Instead, it urges me away from him, heatedly whispering for me to get the hell out of here and return to the place I belong. But as I slowly become more and more aware of him again, I find myself inching toward the spot of cool on the other side of the bed. I feel the weight of his eyes on the back of my neck, but I don't turn. I pause, letting another long stretch of time pass before I slide a little farther away from the edge.

After a while, the covers have had it with the tug brought by my movements. They snap away from the edges and crumple around me. I turn slightly, and my arm brushes against something icy and firm. I release a hot breath through my teeth, my eyes trained on the head-shaped blotch of wetness on the pillow. After a long moment, I risk a glimpse over my shoulder.

Two black irises are waiting for my gaze. They brighten as I find them, though the onyx hue doesn't lighten. I take in the sight of Emmett, his dimples appearing as I do. One of his arms slides free from behind his head and lowers as he reaches out to touch the side of my face.

I can only stare for a long moment, not breathing, my heart beating strongly and surely inside my chest. Emmett's eyes search mine for a long while before his lips turn up in a relieved smile.

"Come here," he whispers.

I don't hesitate. My body repositions to face him while my arms find his neck, this time winding around them only enough to pull myself close to him. He holds my body against his, close enough that I can feel the echo of my pulse in his chest. He closes his eyes, leaning down slowly. There's a sudden pressure on my forehead—a soft, cooling kiss.

"I'll come back to you at sundown," I murmur, my words a sturdy promise.

Emmett chuckles under his breath, the feeling tickling my scalp. "Don't worry, babe. I'll be waiting."

He starts to move away, but I catch him, my arms closing around him and willing him to stay with me even if just for a heartbeat longer. His muscular arms encase me, wrapping around my sides with a firm reassurance. I bathe in the moment, washed bright with colorful buzzes of feeling and then it's all gone again. I slip away from him with ghost-like stealth, rise to my feet and gather myself; pulling in all the light, Emmett-induced feelings and tucking them away deep inside of me, saving them for later.

In a flash of movement, I lunge for the window. My hands catch the bottom and yank it open, throwing it above my head as I duck through, pushing myself straight out into the open air. A gust of wind catches me as I fall, whistling in my ears as I burst free of my shell, combusting into the wolf in a shimmering spasm of shudders.

She unfolds within me instantly. I land lightly on the damp ground with a huff before taking off, leaving the final traces of all other feeling there in the room, far behind.

It's not long before I'm surrounded by the familiar drizzly greenness, a silent thunder shooting through the brush without leaving a mark. My muscles and bones work in an effortless harmony as I push myself faster, racing along the paths of two other's musky scents. Both minds are muffled through the block in my mind, slowly growing louder and louder as my mind cracks open and my presence is broadcasted through the pack airway.

_Yep! I'll tell ya! It was freakin'—_ _oh_ _. Hey, Jord! Nice to see ya! Er . . . hear ya!_

_I know, I've heard this same exact story twenty times, Seth._

_Well . . . sorry. Just because I'm not a Black doesn't mean I can't scare 'em when I want to!_

I shake my head slightly, picking up on the pair of galloping foot falls in the near distance. My shoulders tilt as I angle my body, cutting across a gnarled patch of thorn bushes to head closer to the others.  _With his big mouth, we won't be hearing a damn thing_ _with_ _in a ten mile radius._

An internal sigh comes from the stronger of the two minds.  _I thought we'd asked Paul to be out here. What's he up to now?_

 _Sucking face,_  Seth declares, although he winces at the thought.

My teeth bare slightly in reaction to Jacob's indirect dismissal, my heated thoughts overriding Seth's comment. I round a heavy boulder, entering another sandy trail. Two wisps of color—one sand-colored and one russet—flash in the brush ahead. I head to the other side, setting an even pace as I run parallel to them.

_I'm sure he's not the only one_ _who would_ _rather swallow someone else's tongue than frolic around all morning. What the hell is this, anyway? A parade?_

_Yeah, yeah._ Jacob lengthens his stride, picking up his pace as the rain starts to hit harder.  _C'mon, Seth. We've gotta get started._

()()()

By the time we've cleared the whole perimeter, the clouds have swallowed the rest of the rain and the sun has managed to peek through the dull grey wall. I keep my pace steady as I lope through the trees, my focus centered on the village just through the brush tangled along the weak, rusting fence. How vulnerable they all are, with only a fence to keep out any prowling predators.

Seth's disappointment grows as Jacob stops in the trees on the other side. The volume of his thoughts blare with each high-pitched complaint.

_Oh, gosh darn it! I really thought we'd end up getting one this time!_

_Well, shit. Maybe they're just allergic to whining runts._

Jacob's snort cuts out the sound of Seth's whimper. I flick my ears in the direction of his foot falls, pressing forward as he trots around the back of the village.

_Shut up. Both of you._

I turn my gaze on the russet wolf as he shoulders through the brackish brush. Branches and leaves are snagged in his coarse fur, fluffing up his neck. My lip curls slightly at the proud glory in his pace, nearly sickened. He glances my way, but before a thought can form together in his mind, the brush trembles behind him.

Seth stumbles forward, huffing and coughing as he rises to stand at Jacob's flank. His eyes brighten as he sees Jacob watching, looking like the most ass-kissing puppy I've ever seen, topped off with a layer of brown, gooey mud covering him from head to toe.

Yet the kid still has stars sparkling in his eyes like he's about to drop down and worship Jacob's power, drowning in awe.

Pathetic.

Jacob shakes his head again, looking between the two of us with a short rumble.  _Guess we'd better head back to Sam's. Nicole said they'd have dinner waiting for us._

_If you say so, Jake!_

I stand back as the sandy and russet bodies sprint off into the trampled brush. There's really no point in tagging along, but the wordless invitation in Jacob's thought is so close to an order that there's not even a chance for seconds thoughts.

 _To hell with it._ I mutter the thought to myself before pushing through the brush and heading after them.

()()()

"Head's up!"

Nicole's head snaps up, her eyes crossing as a spoon whizzes straight toward her nose. Right when it's about to hit, a russet hand snatches the spoon out of the air, setting it down gently by her plate. Nicole shoots a grateful look at Jacob, though his attention is directed at Seth. Fury darkens his features as he fixes him with an accusing scowl.

Seth bows his head with a sheepish grin. He laughs nervously, fidgeting with his own spoon. "Hey, accidents happen. . . right?"

Jacob's jaw tightens. "You know what that could have done to her?"

"Sorry!" Seth squeaks. He suddenly appears to be much smaller, as if he's shrunk in his seat.

"It's fine, Jacob," Nicole murmurs soothingly. She places her hand over his curled fist with a sugar-sweet smile. "It was an accident."

Jacob turns his head slowly to face Nicole's. The moment they meet each other's stares, Jacob's expression lights up. He smiles apologetically, throwing a nod in Seth's direction without averting his stare.

"Yeah. . . yeah, it's fine."

Seth blows out a relieved breath, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead. He straightens his back, kicking out his legs beneath the table. As he relaxes, he smiles slightly and shoots a glance in my direction.

I sit on the opposite end of the table, as far away from the rest of them as I can manage. My hands clasp my silverware, a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. A small smile is plastered on my expression as I watch the others with a mocking sort of enthusiasm, though the knife in my left hand is bent and twisted and the veins on the back my hands pop above my skin with the exerted pressure.

Seth studies me for a moment, unfazed by my stance. As the seconds drag by, I swear he's about to speak. My muscles bunch, my teeth clenching together in preparation. What's it going to be this time? Another cheerful purge of random thoughts, or a bombing of shy questions and gestures?

Just as I start to consider saying something myself, Sam appears around the corner, carrying a stack of bowls and glasses. Emily follows in close behind, her arms wrapped around a large pot.

"Finally!"

Emily giggles at Seth's exclamation, lowering the pot onto the table and carefully positioning it in the center. Sam sets the bowl and glasses beside it, smiling to himself as Emily awards him with a flirty wink. She appraises the rest of us with a huge smile, her scars wrinkling as she lifts the top of the pot. Steam rises, warming the air with the scent of stew.

Almost simultaneously, the rest of the them lean in toward the food. Emily picks up the large spoon in her hand, humming delightedly as she pours out three bowls of stew. She serves the others one by one, along with two others in the spot across from Nicole and Jacob. She raises her head when she finishes, sending Sam off to get the soda before turning her attention on me.

"Do you want anything, honey?"

I feel the others slight distraction as their eyes dart in my direction. I manage to widen my fake smile, though my body's stiff as a board and my teeth grind at her babyish tone.

"No," I breathe lowly through my teeth. "No thank you."

"Oh." Emily smiles yet again, clearly content with the fact that I've given her a response. "Well, alright then."

The moment I'm relieved of her attention, the fork in my hand breaks in half with a miserable snap.

Emily sets the last bowl by the half-empty pot and lowers herself into her seat. Sam returns in the same moment, setting out various liters of different sodas. He frowns slightly at the silence, but makes no comment as he helps himself to a Sprite and takes his spot next to Emily.

I watch Emily take Sam's hand above the table without any reaction. They both look at all of us, the others just barely hanging on to their table manners as they lean over their bowls, nearly drooling. I sit perfectly straight in my seat, barely acknowledging anything around me. Sam's brow furrows, his nostrils flaring as if he can smell something off. Emily, giddy and oblivious, breaks the silence.

"Shall we give thanks?"

A mumble of sound runs around the table. Heads bow and eyes close, all except mine. I'm frozen on the spot as my stomach curls, my throat full of bile. My legs pulse against the smooth surface of my chair while my muscles twitch and my veins jolt. Something hot and heavy looms above my head, hovering and taunting as I'm forced to hold still and fake a grin. A pounding beat echoes through my head, muting the room as Sam leads the meal's prayer.

I turn my attention on the glass door. A hum of life thrives beyond it, hidden in the depths of the forest. A longing stretches in my chest as I stare, my eyes fixed on the escape just a few strides out of reach. My reflection gazes back at me, a statue of blazing stiffness mirrored in the glass.

The muffled words rise in volume with the start of casual discussion. Spoons clink against bowls and throats chug down mouthful after mouthful of soda. The sounds are far away from me—a different world that I'm not apart of. My body is consumed in flames while my senses roam, carrying me out into the forest.

My mind swirls with a swarm of scattered thoughts and pictures. I don't feel the crushed silverware in my hands as I picture myself somewhere out there, bursting out of this cage and being free of these chains. The vivid sensations of power and speed flood through me. I'm absolutely emersed in the feelings all until one scent assaults my nostrils, flaring the heat in my body.

My eyes refocus, snapping wide open. I'm suddenly aware of the worrying grip of a hand pressed over the tense curve of my shoulder. I'm still away from it all, my muscles locking as my eyes search over every inch of green forest. I breathe in again, redirecting my gaze.

_There._

A piercing crimson glare hovers in the tree line. I take in the pale white man at once, my mind suddenly whirling at a million miles an hour. I'm on my feet in a split second, earning a menacing grin from the man through the glass. I don't—hell,  _can't_ —think as the wolf in me bubbles to the surface, taking over me in the blink of an eye.

Snarls rip through my muzzle as I explode in that tiny space. A gasp hits my ears, drowned out by the roar of the flames crashing through my body. I shake my head and howl in rage, throwing myself straight through the window. The glass erupts around my figure, shimmering around me. I land in the lawn while the glass is still falling, my body jerking with random bursts of heat and tremors as I settle into my new form.

Through a haze of red, I begin the chase. My paws tear into the loam below as I push off with a feral snarl, thundering after the stinging breeze of leech. I can hear the wind of his speed as he goes, whistling through the forest in a streak of white. My eyes follow the leech's darting, twirling, leaping movements as he races through the forest and I find my teeth baring not with hostility, but with a satisfied amusement.

He thinks he's going to escape.

Damn, is he mistaken.

Behind me, the shock has faded and a shimmer frees the others of their human bodies. Heavy paws beat against the ground behind me, tearing through the brush with angry huffs and frustrated grunts. Their joined presence only pushes me faster, my focus centered on the wisp of white as it dashes through the tangle of brush just ahead. I gnash my teeth wildly as I shoot around a corner, bursting out into a small clearing.

The leech is only a few feet ahead—close enough that my breath is hot on the top of his head. As the scene abruptly changes, he shoots a startled glance over his shoulder, causing his rhythm to falter for half a second. His scarlet eyes stretch wide and his body whips back around, lurching forward as he pushes off the ground.

I don't give him the chance. In the heat of my mad pursuit, I've never planned to stop. My prey pauses, and in his mistake, I claim my victory. With a raging howl, I close in on his unprotected head, my jaws closing around the leech's unprotected throat and tearing it free from his neck with a yank. My legs continue to churn beneath me, powering forward as the sucker's head disconnects with a sharp _chink_  and his body thuds to the ground behind me.

I have to slam my paws down, digging deep groves into the ground, to stop myself. I snort and snarl as I shake my head, my teeth crunching and grinding through the boulder of ice in my jaws until the leech's gaping scream is crunched into a mangled mess of white rock. My body is rocked with a shudder, the final moments of surging adrenaline screaming in my bloodstream before numbing as they settle.

Victorious, I twist back around with the chunk of leech still clamped tightly in my jaws. The others have already gotten to the trampled kill—Nicole and Jacob's shaking bodies rip away at the pieces in a frenzy. Behind them, the sandy form of Seth prances like a prince, showing off the twitching hand trapped in his jaws.

Seth's bright eyes flicker my way. He grins through the hand before lowering his head to spit it onto the ground. He gapes at the fingers as they curl into the wet ground, digging in deep as the hand starts to flop below him. Seth's paw catches it, quickly pinning the hand into the mud.

_We need a lighter._

Nicole shakes her silver coat, taking a few steps away from the torn pile of leech. Jacob raises his head, holding his ground above the body. He rakes his eyes over Nicole's form, checking every inch of her before he turns his attention to Seth and me.

_You can go. I'll keep an eye on it._

_Doesn't make a difference to me._ I fling the head in his direction, setting off at a steady jog. _As long as the son of a bitch burns._

 _Yeah!_ Seth gives an enthusiastic bark, nudging the hand toward the rolling head. He pauses, watching Jacob expectantly until he acknowledges the piece and takes it in his mouth.

 _Hurry up._  Nicole heads into the forest briskly, radiating impatience.  _Before it starts to put itself together again._

I watch Seth turn and sprint off into the trees, tailing after Nicole while trying not to stumble over his paws. Nicole doesn't even bother to look my way—she starts off without a pause, expecting us to follow. Jacob's gaze settles on the back of my neck, resting there until I finally give a snuff and throw myself into a sprint.

As I go, the world tips and spins around me. The heat of the chase still smolders, blocking out the satisfaction of my catch. The green of the forest blurs around me as my skull fills with another's feelings—a frantic worry and a slur of whines. I plow through the empty forest, my paws numb on the ground below me until I break through the trees completely and am greeted by a flurry of movement.

I plant my paws against the ground, holding myself upright. I can feel my heart beating in my throat as I watch the scene before me unfold, teetering and wavering before setting into a solid reality. Sam is crouched in the lawn, his cutoffs jerked onto his hips while his shoulders tremble, his back hunched as if he's been yanked out of his body and placed in another. His bloody fingertips hover in the air above a body, quivering as they hesitate. Sam's lips move in a desperate mutter, but I don't hear his words.

I only smell the blood and see the crimson flow of it that runs out of a deep gash in the body's shoulder, filled by a stained shard of glass. The rest of the window is sprinkled around the body—a woman laying flat on the ground—like a light dust of rain. Her chest raises with faint, quiet breaths, her neck twitching with the slight thump of her quickened heartbeat. She looks as if she's asleep, right there on the ground.

Nicole's silver body approaches slowly from the other side of the wood. Seth's wide eyes watch her from the tree line, his head bowed low and a series of whimpers escaping his muzzle, though he doesn't follow. Nicole pauses halfway there, her nostrils twitching. A panic floods her icy eyes as her mind bursts with a single image.

It's a frozen part of a memory—a body twisted as it reshapes in the middle of the raining glass, crashing straight through it in a wild rage. In the corner of the image, a smaller figure leans away, her petite arms raised in front of her face as she tries to defend herself.

Nicole shakes her head, sending the image spiraling into the corner of her mind. She hurries into the house, using her teeth to turn the doorknob as she shoves inside. There are a few heartbeats before she reappears on the porch, her hands full of gauze, towels, and a bottle of medicated liquid strong enough that its sharp scent saturates the air. She crouches beside Sam, blocking out the sight of the woman as she empties her arms in a fumbling rush. As she spills the contents, she slings her free hand behind her, releasing a tiny silver object into the air.

I follow its movements through the air, my eyes landing on the ground with it as it skids in the dirt beside Seth's paws. He flinches away as if it's poisonous, his gaze flickering around anxiously. He glances over at me before snatching the lighter in his teeth and heading my way.

The next ten minutes don't make much sense. With my ears stuffed with sand and my vision riddled with blotches of swimming black dots, I run with the sandy wolf through the forest until we come across a russet male. He steps close to the sandy wolf, stealing the lighter. Thoughts swap from mind to mind, though I'm excluded, like I'm only here in my own head.

My vision blacks out for a split second. I remain still, only breathing until it returns. My paws are bricks and my saliva is glue now and I can barely manage to form a complete thought. Through the blotches, I make out the circle of a dark eye as it gazes into mine. Words push into my mind, though they come in slow motion, static and stuttering.

_Seth—scatter—leech. Jordan—patrol—gather—lake._

_Lake._

I manage to dip my head, even though my neck's a block of cement. I jerk my shoulders to raise the bricks of my paws, sauntering back into the forest. Even as all feeling leaves me, I continue forward without a damn clue as to what I'm doing.


	56. I Dos and I Don'ts

_"And I feel you close_  
 _Feel you close like you wanted me to_  
 _Feel you close like you wanted me to  
Believe in you."_ - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Six

I Dos and I Don'ts

* * *

 _Wow, you_ _gotta_ _be kidding. She hurt_  Emily?  _Sam's gonna flip!_

_He already took her to the hospital. She lost a lot of blood when she got blasted with all that glass, but she'll survive._

_Phew, I was gonna say! Daaaaang, that woman's a real nut ball though, don't you think?_

_Brady—_

_No, I'm serious! Haven't you heard the stories? You got that scar when Jordan, like, trampled you_ years _ago, right? And it's still there! Gosh, even Nicole—_

_Brady, you really should shut up now._

_Why? You think it's not true? Sheesh, tough crowd. Come on, just look at her next time, real close. Paul says that she's planning on_  marrying _that—_

_Brady . . . turn around._

I'm motionless, my paws hidden in the undergrowth and my form a white splotch of color in the green mass around me. My thoughts, a muddled mess of senseless hums and buzzes, are on low. Low enough that even as the ashy runt prances right around the trail and comes straight at me, he doesn't know I'm there.

Brady's words pause in his head as Embry speaks, finally shutting up for half a second. He lifts his head and nearly jumps out of his coat at the sight of me, stumbling over his feet with a shocked yelp. He collides into my front, then backpedals over the wet leaves as he struggles to right himself. I remain indifferent, a wall of stone refusing to budge. My hard gaze sets on him as he cowers, lowering himself against the forest floor and drooping his ears. He whimpers quietly as he averts his gaze to the ground.

_Oh man_ _, oh man, oh man! I—I. . . I, uh. . ._

I curl my lip back, snuffing a hot breath through my bared teeth. _Nice weather, don't you think?_

The mud slips beneath Brady's paws as he scrambles further back, his shoulders quivering.  _Yep! Yep, very,_ very _nice weather and it's . . . it's just great! Don't want anything to spoil it, like getting hamstringed or anything . . . heh._

As Brady trembles, his spotted gossip partner creeps forward. His paw cracks a branch, failing to distract my gaze though his advance earns my attention. I rumble, releasing a slow growl. Embry dips his head, coming to an abrupt halt.

_Hey, Jordan. What do you want us to do?_

His words process through my mind slowly. My control is butter, slipping through my grasp. I have to glare at the two of them for a long moment, my breath coming hotly and heavily through my teeth, before I realize Embry's asking me. Something churns deep within me, though it disappears before I can make sense of it.

_Take the perimeter, but push it out a little farther. With one 'sucker already intruding, we have to make sure there's nothing waiting farther out._

Neither of them question my order. I nod my head toward the forest, dismissing them without a pause. Brady hops up, whipping around and rushing into the forest, creating as much distance between us as he can. Embry shakes his head slowly, taking a second to curl his lips in what's almost a wolfish smile before he nudges the brush aside and takes off after him.

The moment the rustle of the brush has ceased, I pivot back, lifting myself up as I shimmer into my human skin. I head through the thinning trees without missing a beat, breathing in the murky scent of the lake just before I duck through the trees and step out on to the water's edge.

Lake water laps at the land, pulling in clumps of pebbles and mud while spitting out piles of slime-covered backwash. Choppy waves shimmer on the surface, caught in the rare beams of sunlight. I searching the other side, drawing in a final taste of the thick air. When I find no signs of an audience, I jog through the shallows and dive into the cool water.

My breath skims the murky surface, fanning out in a tiny wave of ripples. I ghost through the water with practiced stealth, each stroke taking me farther. Water seeps into my clothing, clinging to my skin like an extra layer, though I don't allow it to slow me down. It's only minutes before my feet press into the thick mud of the weed-choked shallows. I stand, filling my lungs with the clean air before stepping on to the gritty shore and disappearing into the forest.

I can't tell if I'm thinking or not. My thoughts change with the passing forest, never sticking for longer than a few seconds. They jump and bounce; twist and turn; roar and hum. I'm listening to my own personal storm wreak havoc inside my skull. In the eye of it, one promise gives me the fuel to keep going.

_"I'll come_ _back at_ _sundown."_

There's not a single pit in hell that'll make me break my word.

Closer to the leech side of the river, everything is calm. My bare feet pass over a trail of ants marching beneath the leaves. They're at ease, filed out in a perfect line until the kickback of my stride drowns them in a wave of mud. The brush is thinning and the rush of the current gushes faintly in my ears. A gentle breeze filters through in the treetops, carrying a wave of fresh scents from the other side.

I only have to take in a single breath to remind myself why I'm so determined.

As I step on to the edge of the river, still settling into my human skin, a breeze of white flashes through the trees. I find myself standing across from Emmett, his broad shoulders leaning against the trunk of a mossy tree as he studies me. His golden eyes are bright as he cracks a dimpled grin, immediately quieting the monster's doubts that flash behind my lids.

He lifts a hand, waving me over. "Why hello there, beautiful. Need a lift?"

The next few minutes pass in a blur. My vision goes static, buzzing and crackling as I anchor myself on to the soft surface of the passenger seat. Emmett hits a dirt road and speeds down it, headed for the mountains. He talks to me, his words light with humor, pointing out things as we pass and cursing when the tires crunch over overgrown tree roots. I sit in place, nodding when necessary while drumming my fingers on the hot skin of my thigh.

At some point, Emmett stops talking. I wait a minute, staring at the stretch of rocky, muddy road before us. When he doesn't continue, I turn my head and look over at him. He arches an eyebrow in a way that would normally set off a string of heated thoughts, tilting his head.

"Is the road that pretty?"

I drag a hand through my hair, blowing out a big breath. I clench my fingers, gripping a fistful of my hair. The Jeep slows, triggering a flare of warning. I glance out the window, not breathing until the woman in the reflection appears semi-relaxed.

"I don't know, Emmett," I say suddenly. "I don't know."

Emmett leans back in his seat, searching for my gaze. "Don't know what?"

"What the hell's wrong with me." I bounce my knee and roll my ankles, my eyes set on the window, picking out the weakest points. I ball my hands into fists until my knuckles pale, tearing my attention away.

The Jeep comes to an abrupt halt. Emmett shakes his head, swallowing as he speaks again. "I'm here for you."

His words mean something, but it's not enough to kill the smoldering ash. I'm craving the release of the bottle. My parched throat demands a cold escape and my head pounds, on the verge of falling off the edge. I breathe fire as I speak again.

"What if I don't stop at your neck next time?"

I can't see Emmett, but I do see the half-smile curving his lips. "I wouldn't kill the steam."

My stomach lurches, though there's nothing for it to bring up. A metallic flavor spills over the sharp edges of my teeth as I bite down, barely able to hold myself in place. I roll my head back, close my eyes, and just laugh a laugh that has no real meaning.

Emmett's smile slowly falters. I laugh until my muscles strain with the feeling, even as worry becomes etched across Emmett's features. My teeth flash in a grin as I twist my head around and fix him with a darkened grin full of a bitter disgust that isn't even my own.

"And truth comes out! You just keep banging your heart out with whatever has a pulse, but just because I put up a nice show doesn't mean it'll always feel so  _good_."

"What we have is great—" Emmett begins, but I cut him off with a snort.

"Great for what? The fun that makes you feel so  _good_?" I snort. "I'm telling you I want to kill you, and yet here you are, still blinded with love and shit."

"You think this is just love?"

I open my mouth to spit my response, but his words cause me to reel. Not love? If he's not doing this out of  _love_ , then what the hell is his motivation? I clench my jaw, my fiery gaze gravitating toward his. I don't speak, my thoughts thrown far off track and smashed to bits and pieces.

Emmett holds my gaze, shifting his position while raising his hands—one holds the steering wheel; the other grabs the head of his seat. Both are in my perfect view, not at all a threat as he inches toward me, close enough that our breath mixes, creating a cooling antidote.

After a long pause, he smiles and says, "It's called passion, babe. The heat comes with it, but you won't ever feel the love if you don't let yourself come back to me."

A shudder shoots down my spine. The world's sucked into blackness, becoming nothing more than a tiny black dot. There's a flash behind my lids—a red wave of retreat, and then everything zooms in and refocuses with an icy clarity. I breathe out slowly, finding only a centimeter between me and Emmett—a small distance waiting to be closed.

My heart beats harder in my chest. I reach out, running my fingers along the soft skin of his face. He doesn't disintegrate under my touch—he's real; he's here.

"Tell me what you want," he demands. His eyes don't move as he speaks. "Tell me what I can do, right here and now."

I don't have to think. "Put me out of my misery."

Emmett's brow furrows, his expression clouding over. He opens his mouth and narrows his buttery eyes that have suddenly been tinted hazel.

"Anything except that."

"That's all you have to do," I press. I grit my teeth as frustration ebbs through my chest and leaks into my tone. "Get a gun, push it in my mouth, and pull the trigger. I'm too far gone, Emmett. And you know that."

"I don't," he insists. His arms twitch, though he doesn't move his hands. "I don't believe any of that. It's bullshit."

We're right back where we started. I shake my head, grabbing his chin and holding his face level with mine, probing his gaze for answers. My fingertips hover at the surface of his skin, threatening to push straight through.

"Then show me what you think this—" I tighten my grip "—means."

Emmett's nostrils flare. He holds my gaze for a moment, mirroring my frustration. His lips part, and I brace myself for his response, but never hear his words.

His lips press against my own, urgent and hard and cold. Something inside me recoils, but I don't move. I taste his kiss and feel the hope in it, working out all the kinks and ties until I give in and drop my chains, pulling back for only a moment.

I climb straight over the seat and on to his lap without a pause, struck with a fever as I heatedly find his lips again. It's been too long since I've felt, and I need to feel something;  _anything_. I need to feel him and me and the two of us together, just to know that I'm almost real.

As he takes my mouth with his, I grip his hair. It's not a tug of little tug of passion, it's a demand. I extend my fingers in the softness of his hair, spreading them through the dark curls until my nails curl tight against his scalp. He likes this, though, and is sure to let me know with a low groan, the deep sound of it echoing down my throat and causing my stomach to coil.

I can't tell what's happening. I'm feeling the burn, but there's not much else here, like the world around us has folded in and became just us and nothing more. Emmett's shirt splits clean down the middle, but it's not until I taste his marble skin that I realize my teeth are clamped around the thin fabric of his shirt. I turn my head and release it with a spit, returning my attention back to Emmett before it even hits the seat.

And we're kissing again, our lips and tongues working together to coax out every flavor. I've released his hair and slid my hands down the skin that's silken ice beneath the pads of my fingers, feeling my hands pressed between us as I run them along the ripped muscle of his body. He's beautiful, so beautiful that I start to throb and pulse, unable to wait for more.

My eyes squeeze shut as I pull my body flush against his, gripping the back of the seat. I'm working him out of his jeans, relieving him of the strain. The wolf in me thrives with delight, acknowledging my catch and demanding an act of claim.

Emmett smirks as his clothing disappears, making sure the rest of mine follows shortly. He starts to turn his body then, gripping my hips with bruising pressure as he raises himself up. I take only a second to sense his intentions and less than a heartbeat more to react.

I mean to press myself more firmly against him, locking him in place, but my strength is too much and the seat collapses behind us, falling flat against the back seat. Emmett grunts as he lands on his back, still holding my hips and keeping me upright. I almost want to smirk, but my expression is masked by the heat I feel. I only stare, watching the golden of Emmett's eyes darken as he grins, his lips raising to show a glint of his teeth.

My mind empties, and suddenly, there's no reason to hold back any longer.

We try to hang on to the climbing high, but despite our experience, neither of us lasts as long as we want to. We end up laying together on the broken seat, sharing sweet breath and gentle kisses. My heart slows to a steady thrum as time passes, though it quickens every time I run a hand over Emmett's marble skin. His buttery eyes fix on the side of my face, content with only watching until finally, I meet his gaze.

He smiles softly, leaning in to take another brief kiss before slowly pulling away. I catch the silent question in his movements and sit up, bracing a hand on the broken seat to steady myself. The world's bright around me, pouring out white light. I push a hand through my hair, nodding as I collect myself, gathering my control and holding it together in my core until I'm sure it's solid. I turn my gaze over to Emmett, who gives me a bright smile almost immediately.

"I'm catching the hint," he says. "You don't like being caged in."

I raise a brow, my words lost in my throat. Emmett nods, unaffected by my silence.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm gonna help you out, like I've promised, but I don't need to tame you. Actually, I'm really starting to get attached to this whole wild thing."

I exhale slowly, trying to look indifferent though I can't stop my lips from curling up in an amusement smile. Emmett watches, his lips twitching as he pushes himself up and rubs his face with his hands. Once he's finished, his hands fall and he fixes me with another short grin before pushing open the car door, bringing in a blast of humid air, hot and sticky.

"I've got a little surprise in the back, if you don't mind," he hints. With a wink, he disappears through the open space.

I shake my head, grinning as I follow after him.

Neither of us bothers with clothes—we have nothing to hide. I pad over the ground and to the back, feeling the humidity press against my bare skin. Emmett's already thrown open the back, his muscles flexing as he works, his top half hidden by the Jeep. I fold my arms loosely over my chest and step closer, peering over his bent head.

Emmett's pale hands clamp around a blanket, dragging it out from the crease between the door and the seat. His strength is no match for the thing, but he tugs unsurely as if he doesn't want to rip it clean out. I smile slightly, ducking into the back and reaching over the blanket, dragging it out the rest of the way while avoiding the strap it's caught on.

With a final tug, the blue blanket comes free and drifts down to settle on the trunk. I turn back around, opening my mouth to speak, only to find myself inches away from Emmett's face. He holds my gaze, chuckling under his breath at my expression.

"So," he whispers, his cool breath blowing across my face. "Ready for the best snuggle you've ever had?"

The next thing I know, I'm drawing my legs up towards my stomach and curling into Emmett so I don't hang off the edge of the Jeep. We take a few minutes to situate ourselves in a crooked tangle of limbs beneath the blankets, making sure the other is comfortable before finally settling down. I press my burning cheek against the cool skin of Emmett's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath me. He plays with my hair, twirling it between his fingers and smoothing it down my back. We lay in silence, content beneath the night sky.

My body begins to relax, though my muscles remain bunched and ready to spring into action. I nuzzle Emmett's neck and breathe in his scent, letting it fill my brain and send my mind in a crazed spiral. Emmett purrs softly, his dimples appearing. I laugh under my breath, feeling as if I don't need a blanket to feel warm.

And suddenly I'm far away again, floating in a suspended nothingness a million miles away from the burn of fury and the cage of the endless grey skies. Here, the entire universe has rearranged itself, stirring and morphing to shape a a false perfection with Emmett at its core.


	57. Burning Up

_"I'm burning up_  
 _In the fire of my soul_  
 _I'm burning up  
There is no way I can stay in control."_ - The Expendables.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Seven

Burning Up

* * *

_The ground is firm, hard, and cold. I breathe in the musty scents. My eyes pick out tiny dust particles swirling through the air, trapped in golden beams of dappled light that filters through the cracks in the worn walls. I stretch my senses out, drawing in the grassy scent of hay._

_Beside the stacked piles of banded hay bails, something dangles. It's a weightless shape floating inches above the ground, just barely out of reach. I lean my weight forward, taking a slow step toward the shape. Instinct charges my senses, but the usual icy clarity doesn't follow. I squint through the shadows thrown by the beams of light, trying to make sense of the figure._

_My feet continue to move, but my body doesn't. My shoulder jerks as I take another stride, stubborn and solid. I grit my teeth, a soundless snarl forming on my tongue. I slam my weight forward—once, twice, three times—before impatience gets the best of me and I shoot my arm out, straining for the shape._

_I have to stretch and stretch, extending my body through the air until my fingers brush the shape. It's sticky and hot, leaving a wetness behind on my skin. My eyes narrow as I rub my fingertips together, pulling my hand back to my flared nostrils. Before I breathe in, something jolts inside me, sending my eyes upward._

_Two familiar pairs of chocolate eyes peer down at me, clouded with emptiness. They see straight through me, planted in empty faces with slack jaws. Two limp bodies twirl around and around in tune with the spinning of the heavy rope constricting their curved necks. They're bloody rag dolls strewn up on a display of unexpected violence._

_As I take in the sight of them, a hiss races around the barn. I can't move my head to make out the sound. I only hear it in the air, bouncing off the walls. Another starts seconds later, overlapping the first. I try to snarl, but the sound only trembles in the sides of my mouth. My gaze darts around as I sink into a defensive crouch. I run my eyes down the bodies of Sam and Emily, raking my gaze across every inch of hay and dirt._

_I find my answer in a blotch of scarlet. The color distracts my gaze, oozing out to create a puddle of crimson from the blood trickling off the toes and fingers of the victims above. The light glints in the puddle, catching an image and freezing it in the center._

_This time, my snarl tears through my throat and echoes through the entire barn. My neck muscles twitch as I regain control and whip my head around to glare into the burning red of Blondie's narrowed eyes._

_She smiles at me with a deep satisfaction, her lips parting to show her stained teeth. Lifting a hand to her lips, she widens her smile and darts out her venom-coated tongue, cleaning off the crimson from her marble skin. Disgust churns my stomach. Every part of me buzzes, dying to attack, but I can't. I jerk my body again, struggling against the invisible force cementing me in place._

_In the heat of my struggle, the blonde leech raises her opposite arm. My movements slow before coming to an abrupt stop. My stomach contracts at what she shows me._

_Our hands, warm russet and ghostly white,_ _weave_ _together and_ _leak_ _identical streams of red._

I shoot upright, my eyes snapping open as I twist around and lunge for Blondie's unprotected throat. My hands fly through thin air, crashing into the seat just above the surface of fluffed hair. The body beneath me freezes in place and two hands extend out to the sides, raised in surrender.

"Whoa there! I didn't mean to wake you up  _that_  quick."

I glance down, studying the mixture of surprise and amusement in Emmett's expression before slowly sliding back down to lay flat against him. I breathe in for a moment, tasting the wet, grassy flavor of the morning air. It swirls in my nostrils, clean and untainted.

Breathing a short breath of frustration, I pull myself back into reality. Emmett cocks an eyebrow, his lips twitching. I return the smile, shaking my head.

"You're innocent."

Emmett chuckles, slipping his arms around my waist and resting his hands on the small of my back. "So you didn't feel that?"

I hold his gaze for a long moment. He cracks another dimpled grin in the silence, full of irresistable innocence. I snort, dragging the blankets around my bare skin, abandoning the comforting chill and rolling into my stomach.

"Damn, you could've at least waited for me to wake up first."

Emmett blinks, watching me for a long moment. As he catches on, he smirks and shrugs, his broad shoulders ramming up against the side of the car. "Couldn't help myself."

I raise an eyebrow. "You're kidding."

"Of course I am." He taps his knuckles against his chest. "This hot stuff waits 'till you just can't resist any longer."

"We'll see about that," I mutter, flashing him a playful wink. I reach for the hem of the blanket and tug it a little higher.

"Aw, come on, babe." Emmett sighs as the blanket slides further away from him, his shoulders slumping in mock disappointment. "I thought we were starting to play fair."

A half-smirk curves my lips. "And what does this 'fair' mean?"

"That I tell you when you have missed calls?"

"The missed calls to my imaginary phone. Yes, don't forget the deathly important shit."

"Not to your phone." Rubbing the back of his neck, Emmett snakes a muscular arm around the bent seat and pulling it back with a phone in his palm. His thumb gently glides across the screen as he scrolls, focusing until he finds what he's looking for. I narrow my eyes as he holds the screen out for me.

"Recognize that number?"

I run my eyes across the digits, racking my brain for any match. I frown, looking up at Emmett questionably. "No lightbulbs going off."

"Really?" Emmett laughs under his breath, sliding his free hand through his hair. He passes off the phone to me before leaning back against the side of the car. "It's your father."

My muscles bunch, struck with a strange sensation of both hope and indirect loss. "My father's dead."

Emmett stays quiet for a long moment. His stare fixes on the side of my face, probing and searching before he clears his throat. "Uh, I meant Sam. He called around to Carlisle and . . . he wants to talk to you, but I let you sleep. He sounded pretty worried."

"Shit." I clench my hands, hearing my knuckles pop as I tap the green 'call' button. I press the phone to my ear, taking Emmett's hand in my own to avoid breaking anything as the high-pitched ring pierces my eardrums.

Heat crawls up my spine with each ring. Emmett squeezes my hand, offering silent reassurance. I breathe through my mouth, trying to absorb his effortless calm. My eyelids fall shut as the last few rings echo through my skull.

And then there's a click and fumbling bumps and crackles before a familiar deep voice speaks from the other end.

"Hello?"

I swallow, clearing my dry throat. "It's me."

After a long silence and a few shuffles, Sam's words come through the phone, stiff and unsure. "I've called everywhere and then had to wait an hour to hear from you. What's going on? Where are you?"

"I was told there's something going on," I say slowly, unable to hide my underlying irritation at his sudden interest. "What do you want?"

"It's. . . you're due for a patrol."

I snort, my teeth grinding together. "A patrol, is it? Or is this King Jacob and Queen Nicole dragging me back there, in a display of their undeniable power?"

Sam sighs heavily. "There have been recent vampires scents on the rez again this morning. None of the patrols got anything though and we need as many of us on patrol as we can get today, so. . ."

The rest of his words trail off, blocked out by the blaring roar in my skull as my veins come to life, adrenaline coursing through them. My body locks up as the wolf in me stirs, dying to stretch her paws and sink her teeth into diamond-hard flesh and shred it to bits. I almost lunge out of the open door and throw myself right into the wolf, but the cold shock of Emmett's hand curled against my own brings me back to reality.

I glance at our hands then up at him. My mouth opens to speak, but I can't remember how to talk. Emmett smiles, chuckling at my expression.

"Go on," he encourages. "I should be getting back soon anyway."

With a final squeeze, Emmett pulls my hand away and darts out of the back, pausing only to pull on his clothing before heading around to the front. My eyes follow his every movement, drawing in the sight of him. I haven't only forgotten how to speak, but now I can't even remember how to move my feet, what makes the Jeep feel so deserted, or why the hell my 'I love you' lingers on my tongue but never makes it past my lips.

"Jordan?"

Sam's voice snaps me back into reality. A rush of air whistles through my nostrils, awakening my senses. I push the blanket away and twist, feeling my feet squish into the damp ground.

"On my way."

I toss the phone behind me, hearing it thud against something, although I don't stick around to find out if it made it into the Jeep or not.

()()()

My strides are thrown out far before me, my limbs and muscles stretching into my new form. I land hard on the slippery bank with a rumble, not bothering to shake the river water from my coat. My eyes take in each part of the forest, from the brown spider shuddering in the trap of another's web to the abandoned bird's nest snuggled into the branches.

_You here?_

Nicole's thought breaks through my thoughts, forcefully shoved from her mind into my own. I snap my teeth, clearing a patch of thorns as my speed builds. I pull up a rushing image of the forest around me and display it on the front of my mind.

 _Fantastic_. Nicole sighs, rocking back on her haunches. Through her eyes, I watch Paul lope through the trees, clearly restless, while the reddish runt lays on his belly with his head on his paws, his dark eyes full of an uneasy patience.

I plow over a rotten log on a sudden turn, causing it to burst into a dozen black shards. I pull my thoughts away from the other's as I near. Between Nicole's pointless nitpicking, Paul's smugness about boffing Rachel Black, and Collin's paranoid cautions, my head becomes far too crammed to remember to focus on keeping my lungs clean and my thoughts focused.

Pushing through another wall of gnarled brush, I emerge only a small distance away from the gathered wolves. I pad up to them, approaching with my eyes focused and my body alert. My nostrils twitch.

_I don't smell leech._

Three heads turn my way. I step over Collin, making sure to jab his side with my hind paw. He winces, but takes the hint and rises to his paws. Paul nods, his pace slowing, while Nicole holds herself a little taller, watching me.

 _That's because we haven't caught anything yet._  She gazes deep into the dark blue of my stare, injecting foreign memories of rocky slopes and towering pines into my head.  _A few of them came through earlier but they were pretty far out so we don't need to worry about them unless they pose a real threat._

My fur bristles at her words. I exchange a look with Paul, sharing the same suspicion. My paws itch to run after something, or at least to track the leeches down and eliminate the problem before it even becomes am issue. Collin, who's been busying himself by shaking his coat clean, brightens at the idea.

Nicole rises, her ears pressed flat. She meets each of our eyes and shakes her head.  _Unless something unusual comes up, we'll be running the usual route._

I growl under my breath. Paul echoes the sound, his shoulders slumping. _There'd better be something pretty damn unusual out there._

 _Bigfoot?_  Collin suggests. He works up the nerve to glance over in my direction hopefully.

_Hell, even that wouldn't faze her. Better suck it up and get it over with._

Collin dips his head, turning and starting after Nicole. Paul follows a little more grudgingly, offering a wolfish smirk. His mind hovers, trying to come up with something to say, but he never forms the words.

I nod, brushing it off as I swerve off to the side and trail after the rest of them, holding the image of the mountains in the core of my thoughts and struggling to bottle up instinct's screams.

()()()

We run through the muggy, foggy morning, trudging over trail after trail while leaving the scents forgotten. The four of us go at the same damn pace around the same damn trail sharing the damn thoughts. It's enough to drive me physco. I huff heat through my muzzle, pressing forward with a skull full of bees and flies buzzing obnoxiously; dead and alive.

And now the same damn poetic drone has passed from Collin's mind into my own. I pick up my pace, resisting the urge to find him and pound the rhymes running through his head straight out his ears in a bloody stream that'll flow for years.

_Damn it! If you don't shut the hell up, I'll string you up, gut you out, and bleed you dry!_

_A little pissy today, are we?_

I shoot a growl to the side, snapping my teeth at the outline of Paul's figure. The fog's dense here, forcing us to rely on our ears and noses. I narrow my eyes, my pulse throbbing in my ears as Collin's thoughts float through our minds.

_One monkey one and two lions, too. Let's take a trip right to the zoo!_

_Little bastard! That's it!_

Charging over the trail, I break the even rhythm and head straight for Collin. My temper blazes, hot and real in my veins. I bare my teeth, my paws tearing through the ground as I lunge for the space where Collin's figure should be.

And meet empty air.

The hell?

 _Stop messing around_. Nicole, halted somewhere up ahead, huffs irritably.  _We need to keep going._

I've had enough of Nicole's little power act. I slash a paw through the loam below, slamming my weight down.  _We're running out here to take out what? Gigantic potholes?_  I snort.  _For someone so almighty, you're a real dumbass. Fucking leeches_ _are_ _on our land and you won't do a thing about it. If you really think there's nothing out there, you can spare a single minute to fix the runt so we can keep going._

I don't wait for any response. I twist back and track our scents backwards, searching for prints in the mud. Paul comments, but my mind's buzzing too loudly to make out the thought. I breathe in as I near a curve. The familiar scent of wolf assaults my nostrils, leading me up to the reddish wolf curled up beside an oak with his head on his paws, his eyes closed, and his breathing deep and slow.

_Three giraffe three and four rhino four! If you're gonna leave, bring me back for more!_

His riddles are quieting as his mind stirs slightly. I approach him slowly, my shoulders rolling as I position myself low and ready my teeth. As I start to close in, set and ready to give him a nice lesson, a shout echoes over the forest, distracting me.

"Aargh!  _Help_! Someone help m—!"

Without a moment's hesitation, I leap over Collin and sprint in the direction of the scream. The other's thoughts explode in my head, cracks of thunder echoed by a crackle of too many voices shouting at once. I sprint through the green, my ears ringing and my heart punching my ribs with each rapid beat. I huff through my teeth, hearing coughing and thrashing as I come nearer. My nostrils flex, tasting only the salt of sweat.

I arrive at the edge of the trail first. I push my paws into the short slope, planting myself in place. The brush cracks and groans behind me as Paul and Nicole make their way toward the trail. I scan the brown surface, sucking more breaths through my bared teeth. In the corner of my eye, I catch movement, and my gaze lands on a figure running straight toward us.

He's only a boy, caught somewhere between child and adulthood. He wears a hat over his black hair, a loose jacket, and muddy plaid pajama pants, looking as if he never meant to end up in the woods in the first place. His breaths come in pants, escaping in a fog. He seems to steam, beads of sweat coating his copper skin. He clutches his middle, grimacing as he squeezes his bloodshot eyes shut and drops to his knees.

We all know what's going to happen before he even hits the ground.

The boy's shoulders bend as he falls, his body folding in on itself. He gags on his breath, his body twitching and convulsing. As his bony knees meet the muddy trail below, his torso jerks backward. A pained shout raises into the sky as his arms fly out and all at once, he erupts.

The force of the sudden change throws him sideways. He stumbles to catch himself as his body twists and reshapes itself, only to lose his footing and crash off the other side of the trail. There's just a flash of a spiked ruff before the boy disappears into the leaves.

Immediately, I rise to follow. Nicole's mind pushes against my own, starting to object, though she thinks better of it. I leap onto the trail and pad across it, peering down the steep slope leading down to a deep bowl. A yellowish-white wolf lays at the bottom, shakily standing.

Whimpers spill from the wolf's muzzle. He reeks of nervousness and despair and trembles with shock. His thoughts roar, blaring yet blank. He takes in a quivering breath before tipping his head up to the top of the trail.

Nicole and Paul brace themselves on either side of my shoulders, keeping their thoughts to themselves. It's not as if anybody can hear themself think over the little wolf anyway. His dark eyes flicker across us and slowly, he bends his knees and shows his teeth.

I return the gesture with a growl. The little wolf's eyes widen as I launch myself at him, barreling down the slope and knocking him down, hard. His breath leaves in a whoosh, causing his body to heave desperately. I huff, standing over him with my muzzle inches from his own.

_Who the hell are you?_

The wolf's mind scrambles, flashing random images all at once. He takes a good minute to catch his thoughts.  _J-Jackson._

Paul's silver form saunters beside us. He circles the two of us with a low rumble. My tail stiffens warningly as he slinks behind me, though I catch his wink in the corner of my eye as he comes back around and stands across from me. His forehead brushes mine as he glares down at the shivering newcomer.

 _You wanna know what we do to intruders?_ Paul taunts.

The little wolf winces, tucking his chin to his chest as he shrinks beneath us.  _B-But I'm not an in-intruder! I-I've—_

 _Shame._ I lean in close enough to feel my breath hot against his nostrils. _Just in time for brunch._

 _Okay, okay. Break it up._ Nicole wedges herself between Paul and me with an impatient sigh. Paul grumbles as he steps back, though he wolf grins in my direction, clearly glad to be able to have caught a chance to mess around. I reluctantly jog off to the side, flicking my ears to acknowledge Paul though my attention is centered on the runt. I circle the three of them, creating a wide circle.

The little wolf stares at Nicole like a lost puppy. She dips her head and nudges his shoulder, carefully helping him to his feet. He sways for a moment, his wide eyes darting between the gathered wolves.

Nicole tilts her head, looking him over.  _Jackson, is it?_

 _Yeah, Jackson Roth._ He straightens his shoulders slightly and tries to make himself slightly taller, clearly unnerved. His ears twist and he squints his eyes.  _Is someone . . . singing or something?_

 _Ignore that._ Nicole holds his gaze, the line of her mouth curling up into a wolfish smile. _I'm Nicole._ She nods to Paul, sitting back as he watches. _Paul._

Jackson nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he relaxes. Despite his calm posture, he refuses to look Paul in the eye. He glances my way, shifting his paws uneasily _. Who's that?_

_That—_

_Jordan._ I wrinkle my muzzle, baring my teeth in what ends up looking more like a hostile warning than a grin. _Jordan Uley._

Nicole dismisses the topic with a snuff. She settles back on her haunches, speaking gently with mild curiosity.  _Most of us have a few days of fever before we phase. Oh, that's what we call changing, by the way: phasing. Anyway, when did you start feeling the fever?_

Glancing around, Jackson gradually lowers himself to sit stiffly before Nicole.  _I was taking a run out by the village and then I smelled something really gross. Like . . ._ _li_ _ke sugar in a carton of sour milk_. He waits for Nicole to nod before he continues.  _The next morning, I was really sick. My mom's been watching over me. I sweat a lot and got really hot, sometimes so bad that I, uh, got sick. I was really angry at her and I yelled a lot. It made her cry._

 _This morning she tried to give me more medicine. I was really annoyed because no matter how much medicine she gave me, I still didn't feel better. I argued with her and then she tried to shove a pill at me so I knocked her away and. . ._  Jackson lowered his gaze to the ground, struggling to hold back the vivid image of his mother gasping as she landed on the wooden floor with a thump.  _I told her I hated her and I ran out of the house. I just knew I had to get out of there. And then . . ._ _w_ _ell, this happened._

He looked up again, regret and worry shining in his eyes. _Um, that's all._

My claws slice through the ground below me as I go, my paws burning as if I'm pacing over ash.  _Damn 'sucker that caused it. There's enough of them out there that more children are gonna be bursting out of their skin now. Yet here we are, sitting on our asses and not doing a damn thing._

 _There's gonna be worse than one or two leeches if we don't start doing something about it,_ Paul agrees.

Nicole acts as if she can't hear anyone else's thoughts in her head. She pushes herself up, her smile gone.  _I'm really sorry about what's happened to you, Jackson. There are good sides to this too,_   _I promise_. She nods over her shoulder.  _Come with me and I'll tell you everything you need to know._

 _Wait!_ Jackson steps forward tentatively. _If anybody else—by some weird chance—started acting like I have. . . Will this happen to them to?_

I slant my eyes, my pacing slowing. Paul rumbles, glancing at me before filling the quiet brought by Nicole's wary thoughts. _Hell yeah. It's always only a matter of time, especially if they're feeling sick and getting pissed at the world every ten seconds._

 _Oh._ Jackson's ears droop. _Okay._

Nicole shakes her head, probing Jackson's dark eyes.  _Is there someone else acting like you were?_

Jackson shuffles his paws, looking down at them.  _My friends. They'_ _ve been_ _acting really weird lately._  He accidentally projects another slur of images. A boy jumping to his feet in the middle of a classroom and swinging his fist at the a teacher's unprotected face. Another boy, gangly though his biceps are well-rounded, raking his hands through his long black hair and turning around, shouting angrily. The veins at his wrists pop out above the skin.

I look directly at Paul as the images disappear from behind my lids. Paul's expression hardens and he glares at the space above my shoulder. Nicole shudders, but turns around and doesn't comment.

_Come with me. I have a lot to explain._

Jackson shakes out his yellowish coat and dips his head. Nicole trots past me and heads for the brush, her thoughts pulling away as she starts to leave her wolf form. I follow Jackson's movements with my eyes as he creeps forward, picking up his pace as he nears. I wait until he takes another stride before sliding out a paw, blocking his path and bumping his shoulder.

Jackson flinches away from me like I'm a disease, his eyes bulging. He freezes, gazing up and running a quick prayer through his head. I flash a wolfish grin, amused.

_Welcome to the pack, Roth._

His dark eyes set on me with disbelief. Then, after a long moment, he relaxes. With a short nod, he stands a little taller and hurries after Nicole's retreating figure, unsteady on his huge paws.

Fading thoughts empty my head. Paul moves to stand in the center of my circle, waiting and expectant. I pace another lap before glancing at him questioningly.

_Your move, boss._

I rumble, twisting around to break the circle and head back up the slope. _We won't be ignoring any parasites._

 _Good._  Paul jogs behind me, huffing.  _She's prolly worrying about Jacob._   _Thinking he'll crack like Sam with too much pressure._

My strides lengthen as I steadily build speed, charging through the green after an invisible trail.  _We were made for this. We were made not to tire easily and to stand up against any shit that comes along. We need to get the damn problem solved._

 _We will, soon enough_. Paul thinks surely. He pauses for a moment.  _Hopefully._

Our conversation dwindles in our minds before breaking off. Quiet settles, other than the caws of birds overhead, the wind of my speed, and Paul's thudding steps trampling the vegetation below. My mind fills with the passing forest, focused, all until Paul's attention starts to drift.

Out of nowhere, I'm bombarded with an avalanche of Rachel Black. Her scent, the softness of her hair, the beauty of her curves, the twinkle in her dark eyes and the sexiness of her temper. And the best of all—the way she sighs as lips press into her neck and her clothes slide off her skin.

I grit my teeth, my stomach lurching at the sensation. I fire back at them with my own images, spilling everything, from the chill of Emmett's body, the brightness of his dimples, the firmness of his skin and muscle. Rachel Black eases out of my mind, but not completely, and so I up the magnitude, forcing out thought after thought of frozen memories. The cracking of the shed that first night; the way his hands grip my body; the cold breath of the half-spoken words in my ear when he's there.

 _God damn! Make it stop!_  Paul staggers, gagging as bile fills his mouth. His stomach rolls as he runs into a tree.

Satisfied, I retract my thoughts.  _Focus and I won't have to catch your attention_. I don't slow my pace, even as the distance between us becomes an expanse. He'll catch up.

Paul shakes his coat clean before trudging forward again, running double time to try to find me in the green.  _I need something hot or interesting around me to be able to focus. Or funny. But mostly hot._

I rumble in amusement.  _I have something in mind._

Ten minutes later, Paul slows by my heels, perked and already smug. We creep in toward the reddish-brown body of the little wolf against the tree, his mind still trapped in slumber. Paul throws together a plan in his head while I close in on his front.

With a final step, Paul closes the distance and makes a hacking sound, clearing his throat.  _Three . . . two . . . and here we go!_

Paul flops down on the little wolf with a huff, his large grey form rammed up against the tree as he squashes him. Collin's eyes pop open, his jaw jumping as he stares into the dark blue slits of my gaze. I curl my lip, leaving a centimeter of space between the bottom of his lids and the points of my sharp teeth. My hackles raise as Collin attempts to stir.

_Morning, sunshine._

Air whistles out of Collin's nostrils. He kicks his legs, but it's useless—they end up sticking straight out on his side and coming nowhere near the weight above him. Paul barks a throaty laugh at the sight before turning his head to look at me. I nod to him and after sighing, he eases off the little wolf. Collin goes slack with relief, hopping up a little too quickly. He sways for a moment, wheezing as he catches his breath and all but cross-eyed from the pressure.

 _I'm so sorry! I was just so bored and the fog was so thick and the next thing I knew_ —

 _Save it._  I shake my head, all of my joking evaporated. My mind's instantly set back on the goal and filling with desire. I duck back, setting out without waiting.  _This won't be a waste of your time._

I lead them off the route we wasted hours following, heading toward the points of the mountains in the distance. Paul and Collin tag along, choosing to run together behind me. They exchange thoughts in conversation, mostly Paul jabbing Collin about his size and teasing him about the girl he has his eyes on. As the trees start to become farther and farther apart, their discussion fades to the back of my thoughts.

Instead of the colder, thinner air I've expected, I find myself swallowing even more humidity. A few miles later, I pick up on the rush and crash of a fast-paced current. I've never been in the very corners of our territory before, even while roaming alone as a child—the dense places with less chance of any company have always been my choice of location. I search the area before me, tensing as I step through the trees. Paul and Collin fall quiet as they follow.

My paws brush a gritty, solid ground made more of dust than dirt. I approach jagged rocks, my steps slowing as bits of it crumble under my weight. I lean forward, only to find the ground disappearing beneath me in a hundred yard drop straight down to a wide, gleaming river dotted with grey rocks. There isn't as much green here—it's been drowned out by browns and greys.

I study the river for a moment before peering over at the other side. It's not as wide as it is deep, but it's no simple leap either. The mountains are larger over the trees here, though still a good distance away. I back up slowly, gathering my muscles as I prepare myself.

Collin's head snaps up, his eyes going wide.  _We're . . ._ _w_ _hat are you doing? That's not even our land!_

I snuff through my teeth, bracing one hind leg. Strength flows through me as I prepare to create the momentum needed to clear the jump. _The tribal people aren't free leech dinners either, but the 'suckers don't give a shit._

Collin whimpers, racked with nerves. He casts a look at Paul, who lifts and drops his shoulders in a shrug.  _Makes sense to me._

I jerk my head, ordering silence. I fill my lungs with the heavy air, pulling back until my haunches brush over the ground. Then, in a sudden burst of speed, I charge forward. Paul and Collin take a second to situate themselves before they lunge after me.

My legs stretch out before me, gathering the power I need. I slap my paws against the surface of the cliff, coming together for a split second before I throw my body out, stretching in the air as I soar over the river. The wind envelops me, lifting every hair in my coat, smacking my nostrils and stealing my breath. I'm high on adrenaline for a long, suspended moment before I crash down on the rocky surface of the other side.

As I push myself up, Paul lands with a hard thump behind me, Collin a few seconds behind. I jog forward, standing in the entrance of the forest while the others relieve their shock. They exchange a few bragging comments before I interrupt.

_Now we'll have a little fun._

I decide to split up, wanting to cover more ground before Nicole returns to lecture. Collin offers to take the left while Paul heads right, disappearing into the trees. I press forward, my pace steady and my senses humming on high alert.

It's not long before I catch a faint memory of Jacob's scent. I speed up, impatiently scouring every inch of forest for evidence of the leech scent's he's caught. I leap over fat boulders and shove through thick brush, my muzzle lowered as my nostrils tests each breeze that skims the ground. In minutes, a scent's caught.

But it's not my nostrils that pick up on it.

A series of cut-off howls and sharp whines sounds in the distance. I'm sucked back into the pack mind as Collin's excitement breaks though. _Guys! Guys, come quick! I got something!_

I pivot back and sprint at an angle toward the sounds, my pulse soaring. Paul rushes past me, already on his way. I growl at his hulking form, more out of eagerness than irritation.

Collin prances in the small mouth of a trail, lit by the dullness of clouded sunlight. Paul slows, allowing me to push ahead of him. I don't hear the other's thoughts or the pounding of Collin's heavy paws on the ground only a few feet from my face. I brace my paws against the ground, close my eyes, and suck the scent through my nostrils and into my brain, filing through for a match.

The second I register the smell, my brain jolts, struck with recognition. Every fiber of my being clenches, my blood boiling hot with hatred inside me. A feral snarl cracks through my bared teeth while my mind shatters into a million pieces, scattering in countless directions. Memories flood through me as I lift myself back up, suddenly weightless with the adrenaline pounding in my system with every slam of my heart in my ribs.

 _"You_ will _regret this, Emmett Cullen!"_

The forest disappears around me and I'm off, in motion out of nowhere; a burst of lightning. I knock Collin flat on his back, sending him spiraling away with a yelp as I take off.  _Her_  smell invades my head and poisons my veins as I chase after it, maddened with want and rage.

I take no time to thunder after the winding, zigzagging path, agile as I jump and duck and twist with it, crushing whatever gets in my way. I stretch my head out and keep low. My ears ring and my heart almost breaks out of my chest, suddenly set on fire. I'm so close, so deadly, so ready, and—

All at once, the scent disappears beneath me, almost as if a breeze has picked it up and taken it away. I throw my weight at the ground, tumbling to find the ground before twisting back and sprinting to the last pricker patch. I snarl as I find her scent again, but as I turn away to follow it, it disappears in my nostrils.

I run my eyes over the expanse of forest, the fire burnt out and now nothing more than charred ash. There's a hundred paths stretched out before me, but only one holds the answer. The remains of her smell are slowly suffocated by my presence.

Until finally, it's as if they aren't even real.

I can go. I can take everyone one of the hundred paths, spend weeks picking along every inch of this forest, maybe months. My instinct begs me to start now, to not waste time.

But that hunt, the one alone and persistent hunt, will take too long. And I don't have time on my hands.

I turn back around only to find Paul and Collin there, watching me, their fur wind-blown and their eyes sparked with excitement and eagerness. I huff, shaking my head as I push past them and head in the direction we came from.

Paul starts to ask, but I don't let him. One look banishes every trace of the past half hour from their minds. There's enough for the rest of the pack to worry about, but missing pieces lead to rumors and rumors lead to misinformed gossiping wolves and that leads to a hell of a mess that I have no desire for.

The puzzle's finally starting to settle in. But one thing remains certain: the blonde demon  _will_  be mine.

We return to our own lands in silence, our minds occupied by the forest and the pictures brought by our senses. A half mile in, I leave the others to finish the route Nicole set out and instead start in a different direction. Paul notices as I slink off the path.

_Where the hell are you going?_

I push my legs faster, sending a flurry of leaves behind me as I push off and all but fly through the forest at top speed.  _Personal business. Go on ahead._

There might have been something like worry in his response, but I don't hear anything else as the heat catches up with me.


	58. Underlying Matters

_"Your time will come if you wait for it, if you wait for it_  
 _It's hard, believe me I've tried_  
 _But I won't wait much longer 'cause these walls they're crashing down_  
 _And I won't wait much longer 'cause these walls they're crashing down_  
 _And I keep coming up short."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Eight

Underlying Matters

* * *

The Black house is a hell of a lot smaller than I remember it. I've only been here once or twice. Then, I was a short, nervous girl peeking through the door to ask if Nicole would be coming home for dinner. Now, I've nearly doubled in size and I have to duck in the doorway just to fit through.

I have no nerves. All of them have long since been expelled from my body. Now, I hold myself surely with solid confidence. When I find Jacob sprawled out in a chair in the kitchen, seated in front of a table too small for his legs to fit under, I don't wait for his attention. At first, he looks surprised to see me, but his expression hardens as he registers my expression. When I demand that anyone with a voice gets their ass over here as soon as possible, he doesn't question.

Nicole arrives first, having been Jacob's first priority. She instantly starts to question, but I don't bother to find my voice yet. She and Jacob stay close together, fingers brushing, bodies close, voices low. Billy takes a little longer, apparently caught up in something at the Clearwater's. He suggests that Sam comes along in return for driving him home and adds another ten minutes to his arrival time. Jared is the last one to trudge to the door, his hair messy and his shirt inside out and backwards. Having been with Kim, none of us are surprised.

I pace over the hard floor, adjusting my weight to avoid creaking the house with every step. Sam watches me, pressed stiffly into the couch, his eyes following my movements. Jared snores lightly on the opposite side, his legs spread out and his mouth hanging open. Jacob and Nicole exchange gestures and words in the kitchen while Billy shifts his wheelchair, getting comfortable. Questions and worry hang in the air, masked only by the drone of Jared's snores.

Eventually, Jacob and Nicole end their conversation with a short kiss, finally joining the rest of us. They stay in the doorway to leave space, holding each other's hands. Sam nudges Jared, waking him with a start. He mumbles an apology, sitting up and rubbing his face.

And all at once, every pair of eyes set on me.

I pass the T.V one more time and pivot to head the other way. I plant my feet on the wooden floor, standing close to the plastered white wall. There's a fuse hanging above our heads, just waiting to be lit, and I know better than to be standing close to anybody when it sparks.

"What is it that's bothering you, Jordan?" Billy asks. He speaks deeply, wearing a warm smile though his eyes crinkle at the edges with genuine concern.

Relaxing my fingers, I direct my gaze into the chocolate stare waiting to be met. "We have a leech problem."

Jared snorts. "No shit. What's really going on?"

I clench my jaw, moving my steady gaze into his. "This is bigger. Something's coming for us."

"For Bella," Jacob corrects. He squeezes Nicole's hand as she gives him a look, and amends with, "So it isn't even our problem."

"We know about the . . . group of them coming," Nicole adds. "Sam had to call Carlisle earlier. He mentioned something about them coming here in a few days." She glances at Sam.

"Three days," he specifies.

"Three days too many," Jared grumbles.

I slam my fist into the picture by my head, sending it skittering across the floor and under Billy's wheelchair. "Forget about her! This is bigger than the leech pet's dramatics." I lean forward, finding all of their gazes at once. "I'm talking about a crazed leech, on our lands, out for revenge. It was her—the blonde Cullen—in our lands. She's nuts, and now she's here again, right around the same time all these other leeches keep appearing on our lands after  _months_  of nothing. Pretty damn ironic for a funny coincidence."

Silence falls for a brief moment. My breathing picks up as I look between the five of them, their expressions softening as they process my words. Billy breaks the silence, his frown highlighting the wrinkles around his mouth.

"The Seattle killings are continuing, which means the group of them up there aren't coming any closer. It can't be that group on our lands."

Jacob frowns at his father. "So we wait for them to come here, and then we get rid of them. Just like we've planned."

Frustration floods my veins, entering my tone. "Forget Seattle! That shit's already sorted out. I'm not talking about that leech problem. I'm talking about the 'suckers on our land, right here and now. I'm talking about the threat to our people."

I step forward, holding Jacob's narrowed gaze. "Are you hearing me? There's more to it! This is bigger than the Seattle issue. This is a direct threat to us, not Bella Swan! Kids aren't phasing because of whatever's going on in Seattle. The phases are triggering because there's something here that's threatening our people. Not only that, but leeches get thirsty, and there's a pretty nice supply of throats to suck dry around here."

There's a heartbeat of quiet filled only with four quickening pulses. Nicole's glare rests on the side of my face. "So we run our patrols without messing around and take care of whatever needs to be taken care of."

"We expand our routes too," Jared suggests. He glances at Sam. "Run closer to the trails we used to take when the Cullens weren't around."

"That won't do a damn thing," I spit. My hands rake through my hair, trembling against my scalp. "Our families, or any human on the rez, could head out to the mountains for a harmless little picnic and end up sucked bone dry. Is that what we're supposed to do? Bury bodies and stand on the sidelines until something's right in front of our faces?"

Nicole frowns, her eyes loosing their bright persistence. She turns her head to Jacob, who sets his jaw and glances at Jared. Jared shrugs, fixing Sam with an expected look. Sam sighs, nodding to Billy. I raise an eyebrow. He twirls his thumbs before answering.

"Any conflict within the Cullen family is out of our hands."

The sparks in the room dull at Billy's words. I glance at the rest of them, searching for reactions. Jared shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "We've always done it that way, even when it was just Sam and me in charge. No reason to change now."

No one else objects. I laugh humorlessly and lean the rest of the way forward, leaving just a foot of space between the others and myself. When I speak, my words come smoothly, my tone lowered and dangerous. "We're made to protect. To defend. And if a ravenous leech, out for Quileute blood, with a purpose far beyond hunger is not something we should be taking in our own hands—" I stop breathing for a moment, pinning the others without even raising a hand. "I don't know what is."

After a pause, every gaze rests on Sam. He's been oddly quiet, keeping to himself this whole time. His expression tightens slightly. He opens his mouth, then closes it and clears his throat before speaking quietly.

"Honey, I think you need some rest. You've done . . . a lot lately."

I cast him a look, my expression finally clouding over. I shake my head, muttering disbelief under my breath. I can't stay cramped in the room with them any longer—I'm about to explode.

I jog briskly for the door, sliding through Nicole and Jacob without bothering to take in their expressions. I round the corner and all but sprint for the door, taking time to fling it open, hard enough that the knob cracks the wall. I rip off my clothing, winding a strip of my shirt around my ankle to tie it together. I wheeze with every passing second, taking in the air—light, airy, and stirring just like it is before a storm hits—and leap off the porch, throwing myself into the wolf.

Landing crouched in the creek, I huff and rise, jogging onto the soft grass. I inhale and exhale at the same time, stretching and contracting my body without a pause. I start to build up speed as I near the trees, but a voice from the porch stops me.

"Jordan!"

I press my paws into the ground, jolting to a halt. My lip curls as I fix my gaze on the blades of grass below, bent from the pressure of my steps. Sam's scent hits me just as his voice finds my ears. He speaks only two words without waiting for me to look at him.

"I'm sorry."

His words sound funny, soft and quiet though spoken though a deep voice. I take them in, process them, but can't understand what they mean. I feel my heart start to pump faster again, and so I swallow my snarl and leave him standing there on the steps.

I'm infected almost immediately. Just six miles into the woods, the monster snatches my brain and starts to take the reins. I throw my weight around, my legs bracing to balance my body as my strides falter. I gnash my teeth, twist my body, slash my paws—anything to get her away from me. It's almost useless at this point; I don't have enough control left to take over.

I lunge straight into the middle of a trail and drop into human form, crouched on the balls of my feet with my knuckles pressed into the ground. I expel a hot breath, trying to figure out why the hell I've done that.

Then I hear it.

A feminine, carefree hum coming from just around the bend, followed by the squish of the trail as a little body skips along.

My hands move without any order. I rip off the strip of my shirt and slide into my clothes, slowly rising to my feet as I do. I only have a few seconds, but it's enough. The girl rounds the corner without even peeking to make sure it's safe. She spots me instantly and she stops. Her hands rise to her mouth as she gasps. Her brown eyes travel up my body to find my face. She looks into my eyes for a long moment, her own flaring. Then, she drops her hands.

And squeals.

"Hewwo!"

_Shit._

The girl runs up to me, her chubby arms extended as she comes closer. She tilts her head back to look up at me again, pausing just a few feet away. "Hmm. I's seen you befow! You bwig!"

A stab of recognition enters my skull. I narrow my eyes, unable to form a smile. I'm only thinking of Quil racing around the corner after her and scooping her up to take her far, far away from me. There might not even be time for that—the time bomb above my head's already started ticking.

"I Cwaire! I bad, bad girl!" She covers her mouth again as she giggles, looking over her shoulder and then down at her sparkly pink shoes. Her voice drops to a whisper.

"I out awwwwwwll awone while Unt Emwy cook din-din! Mmm!"

She smiles at me with her little baby teeth, rubbing her belly. When she pulls back her hand, most of the glitter from her shirt sticks to it. She hums under her breath, wiping it off on her wet jeans before looking up at me again. I hear her babbling, but there's something about it that strengthens the sound of the  _tick, tick,_   _tick_ ing in my ears. I grit my teeth, tense my back, curl my toes—anything to hold myself together for just a moment longer. Just a moment longer for someone to save her.

But nobody shows up.

Claire's smile disappears. She takes a small step forward, saying one more word before she hugs my leg, pressing herself up against me. The world around me sharpens suddenly, my lungs emptying as I go cold.

And then I—

The monster

comes ferociously back to life.

She sucks away

light and thought,

filling me with heat and

turning me

inside out.

I feel wasted.

Floating and sinking;

secure and exploding;

breathing and drowning.

I see the innocence in the young girl before me, as bright and real as the fear tainting her scent. The monster paints a red target over her round face and stamps her fate across her forehead. I drag a breath through my teeth, trying— _wanting_ —to acknowledge the fragility of her youth.

But I'm blindsided.

I can only throw my voice to the sky as my body morphs, covering her shrill scream.

()()()

Heated seconds.

Dragging minutes.

A stretch of time washed red.

And then, another part of the forest awakens and the world comes rushing back. An agonized howl raises above the treetops, echoing in the winds. I taste a salty, hot wetness on my tongue, watching scarlet flow from the split skin of the figure at my paws. The tiny shape isn't even a body—it's a corpse too broken to have ever been alive.

I stare, my veins on fire, trying to make sense of the thousands of buzzes in my head; a radio playing every station at once. The forest goes into a frenzy as a bolt of movement disrupts the calm, flying through the green with pounding paws and snarling jaws. I hone my senses, raising my lip and preparing to strike, shifting and bracing myself.

Just then, one station overrides the rest, blasting through my head with undefinable force.

_Go! Get out of here now, and don't turn back!_

My gaze sweeps the forest, even as another round of flames flicker deep within. I can't be pierced—fear is abstract and nonexistent. But the rope of control knots around my throat regardless and pulls me away from my kill, guiding me into the green and leading anywhere but here.

()()()

I end up on the cliffs, naked and alone. Dark clouds roll in and the sky splits with jagged stabs of lightning. It's not long before the clouds open and releases their heavy rain, pelting each drop like bullets. The wind washes it over me in waves, soaking me in seconds.

I barely feel a thing. The chain of command wraps around my throat, crushing my windpipe. At first, I can only feel a sting of heat inside me, though it slowly spreads, becoming both excruciating and euphoric at once. My shoulders draw in to support the weight barring down on them. I curl my hands into fists as if the motion alone can hold me in one piece.

As time passes, I start to smile. This is so pathetic.  _I'm_  so pathetic. I grin against the rain, laughing under my breath as I watch the dark waves break and burst against the cliff. The monster's infecting me, invading me inch by inch, already working through my system as I stand there. My fingers twitch and I grind my teeth through my smile.

"Gotta outta me!" I growl to the flames.

My knees bend as the pressure strengthens, weighing down on my spine.

I spit. "Little bitch. This all you've got?"

My vision wavers as the flames burn brighter inside of me, pulsing through every part of me. I can't think straight as my thoughts jumble and clash, falling together then exploding in a billion different directions. I repeat the snarls, shouting into the sky. With each heated threat, my body bends a little more and I feel myself sliding a little closer to the edge of the cliff.

In the middle of my personal screaming match, I realize I have company. The pad of careful footsteps crackles the brittle brush scattered over the ground, barely audible beneath the claps of thunder. The familiar scent of her tickles my nostrils, drawing me back into reality. I rock back to stand straight again, twisting around just as the footfalls come to a halt.

Lightning lights the sky, welcoming Leah with a flash.

She stares at me, her dark eyes slanted and burning. She balls her hands into fists at the sight of me, choosing to look only at my shoulders. Her mouth moves, a hard line with icy words, but I can't hear a single thing over the ringing in my ears and another boom of thunder.

Snorting at my blank expression, Leah steps forward, her ratty sneakers squeaking against the rock. She leans in toward me without coming any closer and raises her voice.

"You almost killed her, you know," she shouts over the crackle of fading booms. "She's in critical condition. That's the second person you've sent to the hospital this week."

The jab in her voice doesn't hit me. I'm wordless, emotionless; nothing more than emptiness. I trace Leah's movements, searching for any sign of a challenge as she comes closer. The wind whistles through her cropped hair, the short locks flying out behind her.

"Guess Sam knows how you feel." A bitter smile etches on her lips. "Must run in your genes to rip off the faces of any innocent girl who presses your buttons."

The heat of Leah's presence presses against my skin, prickling the tiny hairs on my arms. My muscles tighten, preparing for action. She shows no teeth, no threat. Just a burn of hostility and loud words. She braces her toes on her heel as she steps out of one sneaker, then the other. She kicks them towards the trees before turning back to me and taking another step forward.

Her voice lowers when she speaks again, venom in her tone. "I hate your guts right now."

I'm indifferent, feeling breezes tease my hair and slip through the tight spaces between my clenched fingers. Rain patters against my chest and down my breasts. I see Leah in the corner of my eye, coming closer, but make no move to face her.

Leah barks a rough laugh, shaking her head against the rainfall. "You don't even know what the hell I'm saying, do you, Jordan? Because you stopped caring." Her jaw tightens. "I was counting on you to prove to me that there's reason to care. But you just gave up, didn't you? You just don't even understand what you're doing to other people because you're just as selfish as your leech. You were better off with alcohol as your crutch. He's ruining you."

Her words turn in my head, nothing more than sounds and breaths. My fingers flex again as I try to grasp my control, but it's fleeting, pressing into the far corners of my mind whenever I come close. The thunder explodes above our heads, followed by another white stab of light.

After a few heavy breaths, Leah sighs. "Whatever. There's no help for you, you sorry bitch."

She backs up, shedding her shirt and bracing herself against a rock. She flexes her arms, positioning herself in a racer's crouch before sprinting forward. She brushes by me as she leaps off the cliff, arching her body and stretching her hands as she falls, disappearing inside a rising wave.

Once I hear her hit the water, I tip my head back, baring my teeth and releasing the enraged snarl that's been lodged in my throat. I burst into my wolf skin, sending a sprinkle of water spraying over the drenched cliff. I've clutched the last thread of my control for the past few minutes, and now I just can't hang onto it by myself anymore.

The next twenty minutes is lit with flame, lightning, and the growl of the rolling thunder. I charge through the green, my legs all but disappeared beneath me as I fly, high on some sort of feeling that this mind doesn't know. At some point, the lightning makes its way through the trees, a white streak against the purple sky that pales the world around me. In that same moment, another wolf, dark brown and crazed in his agony, appears on the other side of the wood, running straight at me. Just a heartbeat later, a lighter brown one catches him by the ruff and drags him down before he can even get closer.

As the storm chases me farther, images swim across my vision. A young girl, her copper skin paled slighty, seeming to have more blood outside her body than in. I see the stitches across her face marching down her body in three perfect lines, barely missing that vital mark in her chest. I hear the awful wails of pain and despair she makes as a large, gentle hand tries to touch her. I feel her fear as she whimpers, flinching away.

All of it feeds the monster, causing the flames to burn hotter inside me. Another deafening crash sends my ears ringing as I rocket over a river. I have to slam on my brakes, jerking back to stop myself. I haven't realized how far I've gone.

The rain isn't any lighter here. It's heavy enough to have almost masked the bloodsucker stench radiating out of the forest around me. Melting into my human skin, I breathe though the small part of my lips and move in, ducking into the brambles and allowing them to snag in my hair and tug at my skin. I don't give a damn that I'm uninvited to the warm, comfortable house before me. Just the thought of going in there without him there to lighten the stench makes me sick.

I study the mansion through the spaces of the gnarled branches and leaves. I'm still simmering enough to warm the rain around me with my body heat. Thunder shakes the ground and lightning pierces the sky again, this time bringing out the shine in the glass wall, leaching the inside of the house grey. I don't pick out any bodies in the split second of sight. A moment later, a pitch blackness closes around the world again, leaving me alone and caught in the brush.

Or so I think.

The next flash reveals a broad-shouldered figure striding toward me. I only take a single whiff of the air to catch his scent and my body starts to settle. I feel him in my ear as he pushes the bramble aside and steps behind me, his firm body pressed against my back. He speaks softly and convincingly enough that when his satin hands cup my elbows and guide me toward the back door, I don't protest.

His family's there, all of them standing with expectant stiffness. As we enter, they take one look at Emmett and then another at my bare skin dried only by my heat. They don't need a hint to know to flit away, disappearing into separate rooms. Emmett smiles a little to himself, takes a step back, and pulls his shirt over his head. My eyes follow his movements as he comes around in front of me. His lips move as he holds the shirt out for me, only offering.

I take a minute to hear his words. He's saying, "—figured you could use it. Especially since I don't want anybody else seeing my beauty." He smiles without teeth. "Well, that and McCarty's giving me ideas that aren't just friendly conversations in my family's living room."

Nodding, I step to the side, allowing him to guide me to the couch. He pulls around a seat to sit across from me, allowing me to see every inch of him at once. I know it's only to keep my head straight, but my eyes are much more interested in his bare torso than checking for threats right now.

Our feet touch as we settle into our seats. Emmett wiggles his toes through his socks, nudging my bare feet. As I look up, he averts his gaze, leaning around the couch to look behind him as if expecting someone to be there. I smile slightly at his childish flirting, unable to help myself. Emmett chuckles under his breath and glances over at me. He returns my smile draining the rest of the tension between us.

Leaning back into his seat, Emmett draws in a short breath, his voice low. "I know all of us being around isn't really your favorite," he begins. His tone alone suggest that he's trying hard to get some sort of conversation between us, but there's something else mixed in there that proves there's more than that. "We had a visitor."

I look away from the grey tips of his socks, meeting his yellow gaze. I see the answer in his eyes, but I ask anyway just to give him words. "Who was it?"

He grimaces, resting his hands on the arm of the couch. "It was Rose. Carlisle wanted to talk to her, to try to reason with her and let her know she's still apart of our family. We never caught up with her."

I clamp my hands on the edge of the couch. I know I should have a lot to say about this, but I don't. I can only think about how close she is and how she keeps slipping away. It's like she wants us to find her, but not catch her. It's as if she's planned out every minute of the past few weeks and those to come.

Emmett glances at my hands. "Don't be breaking anything without me now."

Amusement stirs inside of me despite my tension. I look up at him with another smile, unable to help myself. He returns it with his dimples and safely moves closer, close enough that our knees brush and there's not a dozen miles of space between us. My grip gradually loosens.

"Carlisle wanted to talk to you too," Emmett murmurs. He watches my expression carefully before continuing. "You don't have to, though. I know it's a lot more to ask than it seems, especially since you just got here. But I figure if I let you know how sexy you look right now, it'll boost your confidence enough to make you agree." He winks, beaming hopefully.

And again, I find no reason to say no.

Emmett holds my hand, gripping my palm while keeping my fingers free. He takes a minute to glance down at the "floor" a few times to check for "slivers" before guiding me into the kitchen. One vampire waits, alone, leaned up against the counter. I have to try to keep my smile up now, but at the sight of Carlisle with his concerned yellow eyes and too warm smile, it disappears.

"Please, have a seat," he insists. His words come smoothly, as if he's a practiced host reciting lines he's spoken a gazillion times over.

I don't move. I pierce his honey irises, demanding him to show his intentions. My trust is a nonexistence pool inside of me, shrunken further by his friendliness. Emmett allows me a minute locked in a one person stare down before stepping forward and pulling out two chairs. He pushes them together, creating a makeshift couch. His hands rest on my sides as he waits for me to move. Reluctantly, I step around the chair and lower myself to sit. The surface presses against my bare legs, cold and polished.

Carlisle smiles yet again, nodding to the two of us. He moves his gaze from Emmett to me, seeming to have sensed what would happen if he put his full focus on a heated, half-naked werewolf.

"I'm here to talk to the two of you about the vampires coming around here." He seems slightly unsure of himself though his words come without a breath or pause. "There's a lot of them coming and we're still counting on the pack for help. Our extended family has refused us, a sacrifice we have made to accept the pack's assistance."

Those yellow eyes rest on my steady gaze. "I know the pack might feel overwhelmed or focused when that is not the case. Is your pack still planning on participating?"

Participating. He makes it sound like a damn business conference. I breathe out slowly, narrowing my eyes. "We wouldn't miss the chance to rip up a couple of leeches for anything."

Carlisle smiles again as if the idea pleases him. I think he might as well be green. "Yes, I would think so. It's wonderful to hear you still intend on coming. It will be a tremendous favor. What can we do to—"

"Get rid of the other leeches around here," I say instantly. Emmett's rubbing my hand gently in two of his, an ice pack to seal the outlets of my heat. "I doubt you're missing the scents in the mountains."

I could have just as easily asked Emmett about this. There's a larger sense of thoughtless truth in his words. But something about hearing it from the leader itself makes it official—like it really is a problem that needs acknowledged and not a nagging voice tugging at my instinct.

Carlisle's perfectly molded expression hardens slightly. He frowns, his gaze flickering over to Emmett for a moment. Emmett nods, resting the sandwich of our hands on his thigh to smooth out my flexing fingers beneath the table.

"Volturi," Carlisle says finally. "Those scents are strikingly familiar to Volturi scents."

I raise a brow, but Emmett jumps in to answer.

"They're royalty in our world," he explains slowly. I meet his eyes, hanging on to the sound of his voice and letting his words get caught in my memory. "A group of ancient vampires with sticks up their asses in love with their idea of the law."

"Emmett," Carlisle murmurs. "The Volturi are focused on what they think is the greater good. Please don't look at them so critically."

Emmett shrugs, rocking back on his seat, unbothered. "You know what they say about opinions: to each his own."

Carlisle shakes his head, but agrees and lets it drop. "Very well."

I like Emmett's description of pissy leeches much better.

"What the deal with them?" I press.

Carlisle looks up again, his expression. "I assume they're here to check up on the issue in Seattle. We can't be positive unless we manage to find one of them and ask ourselves."

"They're too far away to be just interested in Seattle."

"Maybe they're checking up on Bella," Emmett suggests. "Seeing if she's still human. This could be about her too."

I hold back a snort, though I do mutter, "Figures."

Carlisle doesn't acknowledge my comment. "They could be intending to check up on Bella as well. Either way, we can't make assumptions unless we speak with one of them directly."

Emmett nods in agreement. I study Carlisle for any other hints, but he's become neutral again. Emmett smooths out my hand and flips it over, tracing the lines on my palm with his thumb. After a few strokes, his thumb starts to 'miss' the lines, swerving off and brushing along the skin of my thigh. I swallow to avoid making too much of a reaction with his father standing right in front of us.

"Well," Emmett booms. "Anything else to say, Pops?"

"No, Emmett. That will be all." He smiles again, nodding thankfully before turning his attention on me. "Thank you, Jordan. It was nice to speak to you on good terms."

His words strike another flash of heat up my spine. I ball my free hand into a fist, imagining it closing around his shirt and shaking answers out of him. There's something Carlisle's leaving out, keeping from both me and Emmett. Something he thinks he knows.

I don't get a chance to make my move, though, because Emmett says his final words and locks his arm around my waist, darting upstairs without giving me a chance to decide whether to act.

A while later, I find myself completely relaxed, nestled into Emmett's side. I turn so my hip presses into the thin sheets, keeping the blanket thrown over our shoulders. Emmett strokes the hair thrown over my back, holding up a conversation without needing me to say a thing. I close my eyes, hearing his voice echo in his chest as he speaks.

". . . and we'd just go. Just like that. I'd be Dale and you'd be Morgan. Clever, huh? And we'd just fall off the earth, only for a little while until you're all better. Sound good to you?"

I know he doesn't expect my answer, but my thoughts have slowed, and it's not hard to find my voice anymore. I smile against his marble skin, tracing the line of his abdomen. "Any place with you is perfect. But if we found each other here, I think we were meant to be here."

Even though that's all I say, I know it runs deeper than that. The wolf is bound by the magic in my veins here. Leaving would be cutting that part of her away—rebelling against her. It would drive her mad and waste all of his careful efforts. Emmett fingers the fabric of his shirt before running his fingers up the dent in my spine and finding my hair again.

"I think everything happens for a reason."

Just like that, the talking stops. I breathe a little quicker, even more aware of the feelings brought by his touch. Emmett hums low in his chest and I raise my head, wanting to get a better glimpse of his expression. My thoughts hover on my tongue, waiting to be released. Emmett turns his head, grinning as he sees my gaze. He leans down towards me and pauses, waiting for me to make the next move.

I lean up, moving in until we're close enough that our breath mixes between us and the tips of our noses touch, allowing me to look directly into the bright pools of his eyes. I rest my hands on the strong plane of his bare chest, smiling in the inch of space between our lips. Suddenly, I can't hold back the words waiting behind my mouth. They spill out, breathed as a whisper.

"I might not have ever loved someone before," I say, "but if there's one thing I can be sure of, it's that I'm in love with you and that can't ever change."

Emmett grins, his lips spreading wide enough to pop his dimples again. His eyes shine, full of the sort of happiness I've always searched for, even though I've never thought this is what I've needed to find. He lifts a hand and runs it gently through my hair until it hits a knot. He gently pulls my face closer, closing that small distance between our lips for just a second.

As we break apart, he holds my gaze, smiles, and says exactly what I need to hear.

"I know."


	59. Ruining Plans and Pillows

_"Love we need it now_  
Let's hope for some  
Cause oh, we're bleedin' out." - The Lumineers.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Nine

Ruining Plans and Pillows

* * *

*Emmett*

I pace, my strides silent, ghosting movements across the thick carpet. My blue jeans rumple, worn down by movements too sudden for the fibers. I keep my eyes busy, picking out the microscopic cracks in the wall. They curve down toward the headboard before fanning out and disappearing beneath it. As my gaze lowers, I smirk, my steps slowing.

It's amusing how she finds nothing strange about sleeping in someone else's bed. Jordan lays sprawled out, her arms stretched over the entire bed, her legs curved close to her. She circles her feet to roll her ankles, never fully still. Every now and then, she lets out a small sound and rolls over. A few times, the shirt slips in the front, giving me a very nice view.

My eyes travel over her body. A twinge of possessiveness rises in my chest, starting to form a growl that I never release. I know the concept of her and another man isn't something to think too hard about, but it's no secret. I don't have any reason to believe she's ever had something like this, and the idea of any random bastard off the streets crippling her with their drugs and other asshole tricks starts to get to me, especially now that the room is quiet and there aren't lots of other things to fill my head with. I have an urge to use the extra time to try to find some scent, hunt a couple down, and give them a taste of the damage done with their baby boomers, but there's no point to that.

Except a little fun, and I could use some of that right about now.

I convince myself to shake the thoughts away. I mean, who could resist her once she stretches out in your bed, her skin covered in nothing but your own shirt? And now, she's in my bed with my shirt. That reminder chases away any second thoughts. There's a proud strut to my step as I head toward the bathroom, my smugness etched across my face.

I flick on the switch beside the door, flooding the room with white brightness. I breathe in the fading scents of soap, turning to face myself in the mirror. I flash a dimpled grin to the man in the glass.

"Hey, handsome."

My reflection winks back at me. I chuckle, reaching back to rub the back of my neck. The movement jolts my spine. I grit my teeth, muttering under my breath. The faint ache in my neck still hasn't faded completely, even as the cracks have sealed and I've regained use of my body.

I spend the next few minutes doing whatever I can to kill time: stretching my arms, working my back muscles, smoothing my hair. I check on McCarty a time or two, making sure he's alright. I find cologne in the little drawers and spray a little on, just for kicks.

Once I'm finished, I stare in the mirror again. Something's changed, not about me, but in my grin. It's a little less Emmett-tacular than usual. I breathe in out of habit, catching Jordan's heavy scent in the room. An urge to hold her, feeling her warming the blankets around me with her hotness, floods through me, replacing the smugness. I give myself a departing nod in the mirror before stepping out into the room.

My foot makes it halfway through the door before I pause. My eyes land on the windows and freeze, not blinking. The sheets are wrinkled and bare, the mattress split and the pillow obliterated. Still, her scent fills my nostrils. I take another half-step in, and it's just enough to almost feel the direction of the pulse of her body heat. I lean to the side and go stiff.

In the corner before the window, a hunched, shuddering figure crouches, raking fingers down the glass and muttering streams of nonsense. I move a little closer, pausing before darting around the bed toward her. The motion is one of instinct, and I already know it's a mistake.

Jordan's head snaps up almost instantly, her eyes darkened to near black. Her shoulders jerk and her teeth chatter as she takes in the sight of me. A second later, her lip pulls back over her teeth and her expression twists, suddenly savage.

_Oh damn._

*Jordan*

I don't sleep, I daze.

Sleep is an elusive trick; a lie. There's no such thing as sweet, peaceful escape when your head is filled to the brim with nonsense. I exercise the space, imagining drawing a thick line and sorting everything out. All the shit on one side, the important stuff on the other.

The more I work my mind, the more I start to think. My mind brings up things better kept away with the heat looming over me—things like the bitter smell of blood and the sensation of having a mouthful of nails ever time I try to swallow. Something else hesitates behind my lids. Suddenly, I'm vaguely aware of a presence in the room with me, not a threat but a possible target. I know better than to pay any mind to it, but something about the presence makes me think twice.

I turn over, clenching the sheets. The crawl of eyes resting on my skin washes over me, only for a brief moment. When I inhale again, everything's lighter. The presence has moved, still close but not here with me. I clench my jaw, abruptly acknowledging the looming images behind my lids.

They take over instantly, flooding through my mind in vivid moments captured in images.

A head rolling back, throat exposed to the sky. Long gashes, claw-thick, distorting a tiny torso. Flesh, warm with life that floods in hot red streams around the spaces in my hands as I tear through it. The parts of a body that belong inside being ripped clean out.

As the images retreat, my stomach lurches. I don't feel any sickness. It's the name that I tack onto the bloody body that rolls my stomach. _Claire Young_. Young, innocent, and tied to a fate that would rename her Claire Ateara.

I grit my teeth against the rising heat collecting above my abdomen. The monster presses against my ribs, straining and preparing to escape. I'm coming to now, and I find my hands buried deep in a pillow, though I know it won't be enough. I twist, throwing my body away from the bed, kicking and clawing my way off it.

I land on the balls of my feet, crouched in front of the window. My hands are curling, my fingers becoming useless as they begin to reshape. I paw at the window with hands, breathing in the forest air creeping through the tiny crack. My body spasms and I bow forward, ducking my head between my bare knees and digging my hands into the back of my head. My pulse starts to pound against the bones of my knees against my skull.

Snarling, breathless, I lash out with spat words. "You bastard."

Through the buzz of heat, I sense movement. His scent swarms in my nostrils, blocking out the rest of the world around me. A snarl slices through my teeth as I throw myself forward, my hands pressed flat on the ground and my legs braced back behind me. The man freezes, his expression contorting as he throws his hands up. I almost feel the gleam of hate in my eyes as I glare up at him, challenging.

He shows me his flat. empty palms, slowly leaning away from me. "Jordan . . . you don't want to do this."

The air through the window is frigid against the glass. It hovers, waiting to pull me apart again and drag me into a million pieces. I curl my lip, my gaze locked on Emmett. He's already frozen, even though the cold hasn't touched him yet. I pierce his golden gaze, finding it lit with a thousand different emotions that fill the hollow space inside me. The sight of them hits me hard; a knife jammed deep in my ribs. I  _feel_  my expression melting away as my gears stutter and churn in reverse.

A growl escapes through my tightly clamped teeth. My heart pounds, crunching and convulsing with each unsteady beat. I stay crouched as spasms rock through me, jerking and twisting my body. I rake my fingers through the carpet, muttering nonsense under my breath. I drop my gaze away from the yellow—the ache in them reflects into me, spreading through my chest and into my throat. I hold on to his presence, my lungs shrinking as the world around me tips. I wheeze the air too heavy and dry for my throat, barely managing to find my voice.

Once I grasp a sliver of control, I whisper the first thing that I can roll off my tongue.

"Emmett."

It's only a breath, escaping in a split second and followed by another round of shudders. I rock back on my heels and grip the carpet, trapped somewhere between a sturdy crouch and toppling over. My bones groan and creak, useless in this form.

The presence above me sinks. I hold my jaw taut and lift my gaze, staring at the figure before me through a curtain of dark hair. Thunder rolls inside my skull as the monster builds back up within, tearing through the iron bars of my control like rubber.

Still, this man before me remains. He drops to his knees, reaching forward ever so slowly, hesitating before my shaking form. I watch his hand move but make no effort to knock it away. After a moment, his pale fingers push my hair away, throwing it behind me to expose my face. My lips twitch and my thighs bunch.

The man doesn't smile. Something about his expression is wrong—fallen, almost, as if my pain is his own. I want to growl, to make it clear that pain is nothing to me and that he can be on his way. But I don't know how, and I can only blaze as the man cups my face in his hands. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I wheeze again, my shoulders lifting and jerking violently. I tremble in my skin, barely hanging on.

I see his hands around my face, taking them in and processing what it means. Instinct whips out answers.  _Threatkillripcrushburn._ Through the spasms, I open my mouth, squeezing my eyelids shut for a half a second. I make a strange sound caught somewhere between animal and human, and blink my eyes open. Spit dribbles from the corner of my mouth, my brain forgetting how to hold it in.

My feet slip on the carpet as my torso twists. I groan and snap my teeth, grabbing the wrists of the hands around my face. The nameless man doesn't move—he holds me up. I meet his yellow eyes again, hanging just above the carpet. The world spins and stretches. I can feel the ground opening beneath me, readying to swallow me whole. I shake harder and tighten my fingers around the man's wrists. He only stares at me, his expression hardened as he waits for my final reaction. His forearms quiver, though it's impossible to tell if it's from the force of my grip or his own reactions.

I slip a little farther, my fingers slippery over the man's marble skin. I snap my eyes up, my lips parting as I gaze back at the frozen man. Through a stranger's voice, I speak a strangled murmur.

" _Help me_."

He doesn't hesitate any longer. The man twists his hands, gently closing his icy fingers around my arms. He holds my stare as he rises, pulling me up with him. I draw a sweet breath through my nostrils as the world reshapes and falls back into place, reforming all at once. The man is careful and observant—he always watches, silent and unchanging as he eases me into the bed with him.

We lay together. Something inside me—a hot, shapeless being—urges me to grab his exposed neck and break it while I have the chance. But I don't. The air is cold around us, warmed only in the small space between our bodies. The man beside me scratches his bare chest absentmindedly, keeping his hands in my view. I'm bare, clothed only by the thick layer of a shirt drenched in his scent. We don't move much, only making small adjustments to silently tell the each other we're still alive.

As my body relaxes against the mattress, I pull his scent in, processing it through my mind. The match comes up instantly— _Emmett_. His name triggers a flurry of feeling, from fury to a ferocious sort of longing. He shoots a quick look over then, assessing my expression. I hold his gaze, trailing my eyes down his face to to his lips. They curl into a smirk as I lean in suddenly, gently pressing my mouth against his.

Emmett chuckles softly, and I swear there's nothing better than his cool laughter in my mouth. My heart skips a beat as he returns my kiss, his lips smooth and confident. I slide my hands over his bare chest, my fingers curling against his skin. For a long moment, I'm not sure if they're trying to hold him down or tear through his torso. His cold hands explore my sides and back, unbothered. After a pause, one of them grips the shirt between us, questioning.

Before I can even process what's happening, I roll on top of him. Our bodies become crushed together in the blankets, our kiss growing stronger. Everything else is suddenly less important—the only thing that matters is the burly form below me and the shivers that race up and down my spine as Emmett pulls his shirt over my head and tosses it aside. My hair falls over my shoulders, blocking out the rest of the room. I pull away for a half a second, just to breathe and help him lose his jeans somewhere in the sheets. Just that inch of space sparks another craving in me and suddenly, I can't get enough. I run my lips along his sturdy jaw, taking another few moments to catch my breath.

Suddenly, the heat of my body escalates, sizzling between us. My thoughts slow and pause, charged with various memories of him and me, together, the world folding away around us. I breathe in, wanting nothing more than him to fill me and let both of us forget about everything, if only for a little while.

So I tell him through a warm breath whispered in his ear.

And he slowly takes us away from the world, farther and farther by the minute until it's as if there was never anything wrong in the first place.

()()()

I'm floating, suspended in a pool of warm water. I lay on my back, my arms bent above my head. The colors behind my lids burn red under the light above. I hum softly to myself, letting the feeling of it tickle my throat and chest, loosening my locked muscles.

Beside me, something stirs. I retract my thoughts, forcing myself back into reality. The bed creaks as something moves, and a chill rushes over my skin. I keep my eyes closed, quirking an eyebrow. A quiet laugh breaks the silence. My heartbeat quickens as the chill goes stronger until suddenly, there's a light pressure on my stomach, and two hands skim my ribs, gently caressing my skin.

I exhale lightly, glancing down at the head of black hair below my chest. "Already trying to get another lucky round in, are we?"

Emmett glances up at me, his golden eyes bright as he cracks a grin. "It's possible."

Smiling slightly, I push the tips of my fingers backwards through his hair. I tilt my head, picking up on the faint shuffle of movement far below us. "Your family's still here."

The bed groans again as Emmett switches adjusts his position. "Better get that Monopoly box."

"If you can't find one and we die a fiery death by squealing leeches, I want you to know one thing," I murmur, my tone soft and slow for dramatics. I turn my head, accidently bumping my forehead against Emmett's. My lips break into a grin before I speak. "You sure as hell don't disappoint."

Emmett hums in his throat, carefully snaking an arm around my waist to draw me closer. "What can I say? With all of—" He gestures to himself, then tightens his arm around me. "—this, we can't expect anything less than fucktastic sex."

I don't bother to hide my amusement, shaking my head. When I find his stare again, he's assessing me with that curious, relaxed look of his. My brows scrunch as I reach out, resting the tips of my fingers on his cheek.

"I love you," I tell him. The timing is wrong, and I know it is, but the words have been trapped in my mouth for too long. I study his features for a long moment, waiting.

Emmett closes his fingers around my hand and presses his lips to my knuckles, unbothered by my sudden statement. His cold breath skims my heated skin as he finally whispers his reply.

"I'm in love with you too, babe."

After that, we lean back against the headboard, settling into an almost comfortable silence. Emmett relaxes over his pillow, his arms crossed behind his head, while I lay flat and stiff, heating the blankets with my pulsing warmth. The inch of space between us gives way to a wide, empty nothingness. As time creeps by, sensation of the growing space clamps down over my throat until I'm choking on it.

I keep my gaze on the ceiling as I find my voice again, my lips moving to form words spilling from the lighter corners of my mind. "If you could change three things," I begin, saying each word carefully. "About something, someone, and some place, what would it be?"

Emmett's irises strike me as they flash in my direction. His shoulders slide lower, his feet poking out of the sheets. "I'd say that if I could change something, I'd make these sheets see through. If I could change someone, I'd change whoever it is that makes the sheets, so that they could have the brilliance to create them. And if I could change some place, I'd change this room, so it would be big enough for you to breathe and me to have my fun without smashing everything."

I trace the line of a thin crack in the ceiling, intent on refusing the burn probing the side of my head. Although my tongue forms around a response, I hold it in and trade it for another question.

"When were you happiest?"

In the corner of my eye, I see Emmett's biceps flex as he curves his arm back and props his head up on his fist. "I'm hearing past tense. Do the times with you count?"

My answer comes out laced with a blunt edge. "The raging bitch never counts."

Emmett snorts, relieving me of his gaze. "They don't. But you do."

His words uncover a burn that I haven't felt in weeks. It's the frustrated burn deep inside me brought on by his persistence; the flicker of heat brought on by the way he twists my words and presses a button no one else can reach. I exhale audibly, imagining myself burying that burn fifty feet deep while another part of me wants to toss his head along with it.

The light pressure of a chill, not in contact with my skin but coming close, eases near my shoulder. I do my best to brush it off, but Emmett's voice drags me back from the distant reality that exists only inside my head. His voice breaks through to me again, somehow deep and alluring all over again.

"Since I can't answer, how about you take a turn, Miss Mystery?" He nudges my shoulder gently with his own. "When were you the happiest?"

_Happy._  I toy with the world in my head, stretching it, tossing it around, picking it into pieces. I know the meaning of it, but it's like sour air; just there, breathed and let go before it can even reach the lungs and be felt.

It only takes him half a second to catch the look in my eye and understand it. "Sorry. Let me try again." He clears his throat, thinking for a minute. "Where would you be if this never happened?"

That one doesn't take a second thought—it's skittered through my thoughts so many times that putting it into words just happens without any consideration.

"I'd be on one of three roads. The first would take me away into the wolf. The second would lead me into a life beneath streetlights with funny flavored drinks and strange but alluring men. The third road would hold me here, but it'd be so full of thorns and weeds that I'd never get out."

I measure Emmett's expression, a small smile playing on my lips despite the cruel reality of my words. When I can't see through his unreadable mask, I add, "And all three lead straight to hell."

Nodding slowly, takes it all in. He laughs slightly, though not as whole-heartedly as normal. As he rakes a hand through his hair, he glances over at me again. "That's honest."

"I have no reason to lie to you. This world isn't a damn flower field, though I'm sure you realized that long ago."

I crack my knuckles, breathing in as my gaze starts to wander. I run my tongue over my teeth, twisting in the sheets to face him as another thought rises. "What if I was okay?"

"I wouldn't make expectations." His response is immediate, requiring little thought. "I'll always love every part of you, from the neck snapping to the bed breaking." He cracks a grin at the last bit.

I laugh under my breath, studying the familiar brightness of innocent amusement found in his dimpled smile. "You're in for a lot of that."

A low rumble rises from Emmett's chest. "So I've noticed."

The distance between us closes, happening without any concious decision. I'm drawn to him, just as naturally as I am to the pull of the never-ending expanse of green forest. I walk my fingers across his exposed abdomen, pushing back the sheets slightly. I have to sort out the nonsense spinning in my skull before I come up with something else.

"What's the hardest thing a person can do?"

Emmett's head drops, his eyes following the progress of my fingers across his torso. He doesn't say anything at first, his expression focusing in as he considers. I wait, feeling the firmness of the muscle beneath his skin as I reach farther.

Finally, he answers, his voice light. "The hardest thing a person can do is try to be happy while leaving with regrets."

I pause. My hand stops, the pads of my fingers pressing above his rib. My mind backtracks, taken off guard by the sincerity in his answer. After a long moment filled only with the soft sounds of our quiet breathing, I glance up at him, finding his eyes waiting for mine.

"How the hell did you come up with that?"

Emmett shrugs, rewarding me with another dimpled grin. "Just the shine of my inner genius."

I snort. "Next time, you might want to put 'inspiring therapist with the secrets of the whole damn universe' into your future lover description."

"I'll keep that in mind." He chuckles, gliding his hands down the long, slender shapes of my legs. His eyes roam south as he tilts his head, his irises darkening. "How tall are you, anyway?"

I fix my stare on the side of his face, goosebumpss rising beneath his palm. "I'm tall enough that nobody can step on me anymore. And if someone tries, they'll be falling into fiery pits of hell before they know what hit them."

"Damn. I guess I'm not the only thing that can heat you up." He mutters the words mostly to himself, not hiding the tinged edge of smugness around them. His eyes trail his hand as it curls over my knee before dipping further.

I can only wear a slight smile, my lips twitching. My skin is smooth beneath his hand, like untouched silk, even though they haven't seen a razor in weeks. I've never been one with much body hair—my sudden phase sent my body in a rollercoaster of changes much too soon. Or it could be that—

_About done? Focus, God damn it._

I snap at myself as my attention scatters, even if only for a second. Focus is crucial, not an option. I'm always focused; always ready, but something about Emmett's presence relaxes my muscles and drifts my mind until I'm aware of myself, almost as if I'm actually a some _one_ instead of an abstract freak moving through days with no sense of the world around me.

Registering my silence, Emmett raises his bright gaze and lets his fingertips linger on my calf. "Six feet. Minimum."

The icy-hot sensation of his skin just above mine consumes me. The yellow of his eyes becomes piercing as my vision sharpens with the steady thrum of my veins. My body moves with no need for instruction as I pull myself against him, letting the sparks ignite another fire between us.

"Let's not exaggerate," I say against the base of his throat. "I think if you want to be taking measures, I qualify myself as the judge of them all."

I guide my hands down his torso as excruciatingly slowly as I can manage, though the feel of him is making it just as painful for me as it is him. I watch the black expand over his honey irises, smirking as I slip my hands beneath the sheets. My heartbeat soars, thundering in my chest. Just as I start to shove the blankets away, my body locks in place.

Everything disappears as my senses take me away from the room and out the door. They move down the hall, honing in on the source of a new sharp scent and the feather-light pressure of two pairs of feet gliding up the stairs. I grind my teeth, vaguely aware of a faint spot of motion before me. The scents strengthen in my nostrils, stinging every nerve in my nose with its bittersweet bite. I pick up on the sound of worried voices as the steps grow louder.

"Irina, you can't go in there! You don't  _want_  to go in there, actually. I don't think you're ready to—"

"Oh, hush. How bad can it be?" More footsteps, closer now. "God, it smells awful up here. What's he up to? Surely nothing more important than attendance in family matters."

One rhythm of footfalls halts. The other speeds up with an aggravated sort of briskness. I'm snapped back into the present, my gaze landing on the shut door. I buzz, ready to react before the threat even shows. Emmett shifts, saying something underneath the ringing in my ears and winding his arms around me just as the door flies open.

The figure behind the door takes one step in before freezing, eyes flaring with shock. A white hand flies up to cover her mouth, hiding the glint of venom-coated teeth. I pick out the weak points of the leech—straight-stanced and unprepared, crooked leg, unguarded vitals—as she gapes, my head twisted back to pin her with a probing glare though my body remains flat across the mattress. Her yellow eyes flick between us, first to Emmett, who's beaming like an idiot as he pulls an arm back to give a friendly wave, and then me, tangled in the sheets with his arms locked around my torso and my fingers lingering on the lower part of his abdomen.

A whole three seconds passes before the bloodsucker becomes animated again. She shrieks, a strange sound somewhere before a horrified wail and a scream. She shakes her head furiously, rapidly backing out before turning on her heel and darting down the hall.

The second she's gone, Emmett makes an amused sort of rumble. I glance over at him as he tilts his head to look down at me, completely at ease, as if parasites barging through his house happens daily. He wiggles his brow, flashing a toothy smile. "Bet she got a nice eyeful."

I don't return his smile. Every inch of my body is on fire, screaming at me to track and kill. I have to drink in lungful after lungful of his scent just to keep my hands clenched in the sheets instead of into his flesh. He catches on quickly—he nods to himself, still smiling, and breezes to the other side of the room. By the time I sit up and face him, Emmett's securing the belt on his jeans and has covered the rest with a light hoodie.

"I'll take care of this, no problem," he chants, giving himself a little pep talk under his breath. After patting his hair down, he glances up and shows his dimples one last time. "If I'm not back in ten seconds, engage in kill-and-destroy mode."

I wait until I can't hear anything but the muffled hum of heated voices beneath the floor before sliding out of the sheets. I pull Emmett's shirt off the floor and over my head before snatching a pair of sweats sticking out of the closet, dressing in seconds. I pull in another short breath, searching, though everything's drowned out by a sickening sea of leech stench by now, like sugary piss and a mountain of infected rotting flesh.

Taking the collar of Emmett's shirt in my teeth, I hold the shirt to my nostrils while keeping my hands free, extracting the traces of his scent from the fabric. My feet pad soundlessly over the carpeted floor of the hall as I jog toward the staircase. Inhaling a final breath of Emmett, I release the shirt and brace my hands against the wall, letting my front half curve around the corner. I bend my knees, lowering myself to glimpse into the room below the stairs.

The first thing I see is Emmett leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded tight to his chest. My gaze pauses on the sight of him, only to be distracted by the trembling shape crouched before him. A white-blonde leech glares daggers up at him, throwing up her hands as she backs away, raising her high-pitched voice in a screech. I slowly step down the stairs, approaching without any warning.

"They killed Laurent!  _My_  Laurent! Those filthy dogs killed him, yet my cousin has one in  _bed_  with him? That's  _sick_! Sick, it's all sick!"

"Whoa, hold up." Emmett lifts his hands and shakes his head. "She's not a dog, Irina. Trust me—no dog bites that hard."

I reach the bottom of the stairs and instantly stop the instant my feet touch the floor, hit with a wave gag-worthy bloodsucker stench. Something distracts my gaze. Through the open doorway, I catch a glimpse of the rest of the Cullens, standing off to the side. They're joined by a cluster of four other yellow-eyed parasites who look like they're either about to take their first piss of the century or go into a hissy fit. They're all unaware, tense and stiff like statues as they watch Emmett and the bitchy one with something more than just worry in their gazes.

Emmett smirks regardless of the tension, completely at ease. He glances behind the she-leech, catching my gaze and winking. I smile slightly, but don't distract my focus. One hand reaches back to rub his neck as he returns his gaze down to the leech before him, acting as if there's nothing else to look at.

"Jordan is as much of a person as the rest of us."

The leech spits out an infuriated hiss. She darts forward, getting close enough to Emmett's face that it raises the invisible hairs on my neck. Her teeth bare while her knees bent and her hands ball at her side as she prepares to spring.

"I'll kill all the dogs myself! Rosalie was right—she warned us! She came by weeks ago and told us there was something horribly wrong. Carmen didn't believe her, but I knew she wouldn't fib! I  _knew_! And now we've found the truth. You're corrupted!"

She snaps her gaze to the side, seething rage as she turns on the group of unfamiliar yellow-eyes. "We shouldn't have even come. But I do suppose we might as well take care of the Cullen's problem while we're here. Evidently, they're very friendly with those beasts!"

Emmett's expression clouds over, the playful gleam in his eyes disappearing. He clamps a big hand on the she-leech's shoulder, lowering his voice. "You don't wanna try that. She'll kick your ass. Bad."

Growling, the she-leech swats Emmett's hand away. She straightens out her stance, her fingers curved like claws. "We'll see about that!"

While they've been distracted, I've advanced in careful, quiet movements until I find myself right behind the spitting parasite, close enough that her stench blazes in my nostrils and my breath is hot on the back of her head. I raise a brow, narrowing my gaze as my jaw tightens. My words come smoothly when I finally speak, sharpened with an edge.

"Is that a challenge?"

The she-leech spins around, snarling, but the sound catches in her throat. Her gaze lands on the base of my throat and she glances up, her gaze sparked with fight. She hops back a good few yards, recoiling in disgust. Her eyes burn as she glares up at me with a pure, familiar hatred. " _You!_ "

Emmett grins at me, shrugging his broad shoulders. He relaxes against the wall, giving off a smug air of amusement. "If you ask me, I'd say yes, she is challenging you. I'm not gonna stop you if you wanna make some action."

Sparks crackle in the she-leech's yellow eyes. She flinches and tries to hide it with the hostile curl of her lip. Her eyes leave mine only to blaze in Emmett's direction. "You're next."

The worlds come from beneath the surface of a murky lake, foreign and far away. My gaze zeros in on the glint of white teeth, bared and challenging, aimed at Emmett's throat. Heat bubbles through my veins before bursting like a shot of lightning, fiery and furious. The murderous expression the she-leech's face pulls my trigger before the gun has even raised.

Little parasite's about to find out just how friendly us beasts really are.

A howl leaves my mouth as my body morphs, twisting and exploding right there in the middle of the hall. The change leaves deep scores in the floor and wall, and my paws crunch under chunks of something, but I don't give a damn what's broken unless it's the sucker's neck.

Various voices shout out, but I'm beyond the point of separating them from the roar in my eardrums. I launch myself forward the instant I'm stable in my wolf's skin, letting her take over. The leech's face impossibly pales, struck with horror as the wall crunches around her, my lunge knocking her back. I'm on her before she has a chance to recover, sparks raining above us as the light above my head clatters to the ground. The stair rail bursts, scattering along the floor as it cracks in half and gives way. I drive my skull against the she-leech's throat, bashing her airways as I hold her back and pull my lips.

The next few heartbeats race and stutter at the same time. I hear screams and shouts in the far distance, somewhere far behind me. They come closer with each tick of a second, but I ignore them as my teeth cut deep through diamond-hard flesh, jagged knives curved to butcher the body below me. Nails rake through my fur, though they comb more than they damage. My paws slowly crush down a screeching face while I clamp my jaws deep in a bloodless body, twisting at the hip to slowly snap the body in half right at the center. Bones crunch, skin splits, and agony rises in shouts, bursts of sweet pleasure in my ears as I rearrange the helpless figure.

After those few seconds of adrenaline-filled fire, a cool pressure on my flank stops me. I release a fierce snarl, whipping my head back to tear into whatever else has come in the way of  _my_  Emmett. I spread my jaws, lunging straight for the throat, but freeze as the tips of my teeth graze a broad neck.

Emmett chuckles uneasily, his hands frozen between us. "Whoa there, babe. I just wanted to let you know that the whole kill-and-destory plan . . . that was a joke. And I don't think killing my cousin in the middle of my family's floor is . . . the best idea."

I snap my muzzle shut. The world comes back to me again, rushing through my mind. I glance over at the grim-faced Cullens, halted in the doorway. The strangers are motionless behind them, looking more dead than alive. The hard faced, honey-haired Cullen steps forward, his eyes coal black and settled on my paws.

Emmett steps between us before I can even form a growl. "You don't wanna try it, Jazz."

Something about the sound of his voice extinguishes the fire. The joking is gone, and instead he speaks under his breath, not a whisper but almost. He leans away from his brother, nodding to his family as he turns back to me. I drop my gaze to the half-hearted smile on his lips, trying to make sense of it. Every part of me screams to finish the kill, but the nameless gleam in Emmett's eyes quiets the desire.

Stretching a hand out toward my muzzle, Emmett keeps his stare on mine. "Hey, Jordan," he whispers.

His foot crunches over another hunk of the wall as he takes another wary step toward me. His fingers press the side of my muzzle and he closes the space, standing before me. His eyes seem to waver as the world shimmers around me. I release a breath, blinking my eyes and opening them to the strings of Emmett's hoodie, my muscles twitching and my body spasming as it readjusts into its other form.

Someone hits the resume after that. Everything's in motion as a buzz of what sounds like electricity rushes past my ear, followed by the dart of another screeching leech. My pulse punches my skull with every thundering beat, slowly calmed by the cold hand smoothing my hair down my back. I waver, breathing hot, heavy breaths against Emmett's shirt. Blackness swarms the edge of my vision, threatening to swallow me whole.

Through it, I see only the light color of Emmett's hoodie and the faint rise and fall of his practiced breathing. His hand strokes my hair as he walks us back, moving me with him though my feet are firm. I faintly make out an argument as Emmett's neck turns.

"Atrocious! It is atrocious, Carlisle! I refuse to risk my mate and my family with that. No, not mi Carmen. No, no. I won't risk this."

Carlisle pleads against the words nearly spat at him despite the stubborn sureness in the masculine tone beating down his every try. "I'm very sorry this happened. It was a mistake, though I can assure you Irina will recover. Kate and Tanya will take her outside, and if we could please move out there while Emmett calms his mate—"

"No! No, I will not!" The voice strengthens, fear setting in beneath the fury.

"Eleazar, there are two days left until the army of them arrive. Two days is enough time to come to an agreement, is it not? I will not hold you here, but I do ask that you at least consider your decision. We've been family for—"

"No! My answer is no! Come, Carmen. I will take you away from this place where we can be safe."

I twist my head slightly, just enough to see straight across Emmett's chest. A chalky male stalks by with a female under his arm, his hair just as dark as his eyes. He casts a burning glance my way as he passes. As he finds my gaze, he pauses for half a second, his expression changing.

Before the monster can utter a word, two arms secure me in, holding me in my human skin by a thread as the scene disappears, leaving only the antidote of Emmett's grip to keep me from returning to my kill and not stopping until there's not a single one left.

And it's just enough.

 


	60. Breathe

[ **Warning** : This chapter contents content that some readers might be uncomfortable with.]

 _"Creatures lurk below the deck_  
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.  
And as the world comes to an end  
I'll be here to hold your hand." - Of Monsters and Men.

* * *

Chapter Sixty

Breathe

* * *

The world around me churns, a buttery-slick smear of white and gray. Emmett clears the stairs in three long strides, passing through the hall with a few more. He turns me upside down as I meet a scramble of sheets, and I drown in them. The chill of him disappears as he darts over to the other side of the room and hits something on the wall.

Lights out.

Emmett climbs in the bed without making a sound. He's above me, by my side, behind me, and everywhere all at once. He braces his elbows beside my head, pressing the cold skin of his hands on my face. I push against him, groaning through my teeth. The edges of my vision blur, shimmering. I claw at the air, breathing hard and heavy until I find purchase and grip tight. A shout punches my eardrums as my hands close in.

"You're—fuck. Don't do that, don't do that. You're hurting me, J. Ah, fuck!"

Knuckles pale.

I bleed heat. Rocks of tension pile in my lungs with each tainted sweet breath. My muscles spasm as the glowing world around me starts to crumble. I snap my teeth, straining my neck to connect with my target. Some part of my brain is stuck in the heat my attack, and the burn's finally catching up with me. My fingers curl in to the hard surface, digging deep. I throw my weight, crashing against the figure above me. My jaws spread as I release my fury, searching for a weak point.

Teeth click shut, empty.

I twist in the pitch black, wrestling my opponents weight into the squishy surface below. It's a one-sided effort—the body beneath me falls limp with a groan, giving in in seconds. I feel the shape of cold hands on my sides, holding me but no longer fighting. A scream splits the air, overriding the crackle of the white heat as everything becomes so fucking twisted I can't separate right from left. Every inch of the thick bone around my brain pulses, crunching into the corners of my skull before flying out in a million different directions. I strain my gaze, pausing while my senses roam. Purple fingers of color caress the edges of my vision as the floor warps, riding up against the walls of black, stretching and growing before falling in on itself.

The pieces shatter like glass, breaking to reveal the black nothingness below.

Now, there's nothing here.

Nothing but the pounding beat in my eardrums and the clouds of icy breath at the base of my throat.

He's there. I know he's there. He's a knife jammed deep in my temple and driven in deep, trying to root out something that isn't even there. I breathe, stung by the thoughts slicing through my head a billion razors. I shudder, shaking my head. This heat is different. It's not a blaze, but a blistering pressure building from my lungs, slowly suffocating. I cough, heaving dry air. The sharp ringing in my ears subsides with each release. Inhaling, I take in another breath to replace the one lost. As my lungs fill, the world rearranges itself, falling back into place.

It's dark. The bulb above my head sleeps, and the window allows only a dull gray to seep through the black glass. I start to shift, bringing my legs around to abandon the shadows for the hang of the late-night summer air. But right then, a chill rises, and with it comes a whisper of my name.

"Jordan. . ."

The words come through a gruff mumble, but the voice that pierces my ears is unmistakable. I drop my gaze, picking out the snow of his skin against the crumpled sheets. His chest is bare, and the threads of his shirt cling to one shoulder, though it doesn't cover the gashes opening his chest, knitting together beneath my stare.

Reaching out, I skim my fingers over him, from his neck to the healing marks below his collarbone. I flex my jaw, raising my gaze slowly and crushing the jolt that strikes my heart. Emmett's eyes are lit and pinched, wary. His hands cup my elbows, hovering, halfway between touching and restraining.

For a moment, his eyes flash ruby, cold and lifeless.

Heat flares, but I choke it back and hug myself to him, nuzzling the smooth skin of his neck. Every part of me is aggression, but in some strange way I manage to twist it into affection and give it to him. Eventually, Emmett relaxes beneath me, and he circles his arm around my back.

"You're okay," he mumbles. His lips draw soft patterns on my skin, comforting.

I breathe fire, my fingertips twitching against the sheets. I try to strangle the words in my throat, but they make it past my lips before I get the chance. "I almost tore the life out of a kid. A fucking kid. Is that okay to you?"

Emmett's breath blows across my face, a sweet, cool poison. He shakes his head, running his fingers up and down my forearms. " _Almost_  is different than—"

"And I almost killed you too, damn it!"

The flare explodes, boiling over. White-hot memories sear in my mind as the crunch of his snapped neck echoes through my eardrums again, and again, and again, gushing through me in surges. They tear me open, turning me inside out. I squeeze my eyes shut, whistling heat.

"But you didn't." Emmett speaks surely with a firm determination that only pushes me closer to the edge.

His calm rubs against my control like sandpaper. I seethe, throwing my fist into the headboard above his head. It cracks, but he doesn't flinch.

"I damn well could have! I could've torn out your throat before this even started. I could have then, and hell, I could right now! Is that okay, Emmett? Is it okay that I might string you inside out and burn you to hell if you give me the wrong look at the wrong fucking time? Look at me. Look me right in the fucking eyes and tell me that's  _okay_."

Emmett looks at me, but he doesn't say anything. His expression hardens as he stares, his silence a stab to the heart. I shake my head and swallow my voice back as if I could inhale the words right out of our memories. My hands curl and my teeth grind. The scream's on the inside, and there's no place for it to go but out.

I move away from him quickly enough that gravity misses the chance to draw me back to him. I push my hands deep into my hair, throwing my head back. I bend my knees and drop my forehead onto the tops of them, breathing hard and heavy in the space between my thighs. Each breath becomes a shove rammed roughly into my ribs, coaxing my voice until finally, I find it.

I speak carefully this time, allowing my jaw to flex around the words as they roll off my tongue.

"You wouldn't go to hell," I tell him surely. "You're trying to save me and you can't ever go to hell for that. You're a. . ." I suck in a deep breath through my nose. "You're trying. You're trying so  _fucking_  hard and I can't even. . ."

My ears ring, buzzing through my skull. The piercing pitch scatters my thoughts, washing my vision red. I exhale lightly, letting one of my hands rest over his—neutral territory. I try to breathe in his scent, but the air stiffens around my nostrils, too heavy and thick. Emmett's golden eyes rest on the side of my face, patient.

"You're a part of me." I'm choking on the words, rasping them out in wheezes, but I don't give a shit how they come. I need to get them out. "You're a part of me now, because I'm nothing. I'm just a wolf in this fake fucking skin. You're the only one who can give a damn back. But I can't breathe—" I snarl over another wheeze. "Emmett, I can't breathe. I can't catch my breath."

Emmett cracks a smile against the tension wedged between us. Ignoring my curled position, he wraps an arm around me and pulls my body back above his. There's a long stretch of silence before finally, I drop my hands and gaze down at him through the hair thrown over my face. Emmett smiles gently, leaning up to push my hair away as he brings my face closer to his.

"Then trust me," he murmurs into the base of my throat. His icy knuckles run across my shoulder, brushing away stray stands. "All you have to do is trust me."

I pause for a moment, turning the lock on my control, before I lean down to meet his lips.

The second our lips touch, everything speeds up, flying by in fast-forward.

Emmett grabs my mouth with his. The kiss is sudden, but I take it. Hands run across my scalp as I curl my hands into his sides, tugging off the remains of his shirt. Warm desire flourishes out from the pits of my stomach and heads south as our mouths work together. I crush my body against his, urging him further; dragging us down into deeper depths. My legs open to fit his hips, and he doesn't hesitate to close in. My breath catches despite myself as he turns the world upside down and shields me from it in a mass of raw ice and muscle.

I want him to take over. I want him to be the one to take both the reins and my clothes. I won't tear them from my skin—I want  _him_  to do it; I want him to slowly peel reality away and lead the way into oblivion.

But I can't. I won't.

Because control is  _mine_ , and he's stealing it.

Lips and teeth drag down my neck; sharp edges and hard curves.

 _"Go on. Trust him,"_ the flames hiss _. "Trust is letting him burn you alive and spit on your ashes."_

I breathe in the fumes of my rising heat as I start to slip, nearing the free-fall into the hell opening beneath me.

Emmett hovers above me, trailing kisses along my neck as our bodies try to move together in ways clothes won't allow, pushing the headboard to its breaking point. I growl as he breaks our kiss and runs his nose along my jaw line, stopping just below my ear. His teeth press against the skin there, venom searing against the heat. Emmett slows his hips before stopping completely, only breathing. I bend my knees in, drawing him close again. Flashes spark in my core as the edges of my vision glow. I start to say his name, but it never leaves my tongue.

"You have to go."

His words strike me square in the gut. My breath rushes out of my lungs as my hands go slack in his curls. He smiles slightly as he pulls away slightly, his darkened gaze centered on the throb of my pulse. I start to catch my breath, slapping together thoughts to form words, but then I hear it.

A howl peaks, carrying over the treetops before slowly fading away, the sound left to linger.

_Shit._

The call tears me away from him and drags me on my feet. I push a hand through my hair, shaking the anchors from my ankles as I leave him there, moving without choice. I pause for a moment as I reach the window, my hands reaching for the ledge, and take a final look at him over my shoulder.

The burning coals of his eyes haven't moved. They brighten slightly as they catch a glimpse of my face, lit with his dimpled smile. He nods, a wordless encouragement, though his hands are balled into the sheets.

I flash a smile in my goodbye, my heart slamming into my ribs in rebuttal.

It's not easy to ignore, but the wolf tosses all reasons to stay behind in the gutters as my hands brush smooth glass.

Knocking the window out of my way and ignoring the complaint of the screeching glass, I hurl myself into the open air. The world rushes past in a sharp whistle before I hit the ground on all fours, in motion before the ground is formed beneath me. There aren't any expectant minds—the forest is empty other than a stale musk of wolf mingling in the bramble. I pass over the scent, letting it spin through my head. Finding no threat in the smell, I reject the memory of it and push forward.

Clearing the river, I land lightly on the bank of the other side, welcomed by the breathable space of home. I lean my weight off my paws as I go, perked and alert. Silence hovers above the forest, broken only by the gentle breaths of the blowing wind. Deep in the bark of a rotting tree, the thundering thuds of half a dozen tiny heartbeats grows audible. The stuffy scent of a mouse nest tickles my nostrils, followed by a series of faint squeaks and shuffles. I snuff as I breeze by the tree, drawing in the leafy scents of the damp forest. My senses roam again, searching for any sign of company, but instantly become distracted by a sudden motion a short distance ahead of me.

The scent of a deer hits my nostrils, injecting images into my trail of thought. A shaggy coat, darting legs, kicking hooves. The buck's a stray, bolting as I near. The sound of its wet, heavy heart and the challenge of a chase invades every nerve in my body. For a second, I forget what I'm doing and give in, snapping my teeth as I twist sharply and take off after the crackle of hooves trampling brush.

It's a short game. The exhilaration of the effortless stretch of my body and rake of the wind through my fur only lasts seconds before I round a large tree and jump the ravine. My timing's set perfectly, and I collide into the body of my prey with a crunch and bring it down. The buck reeks of fear, but puts up a short fight, kicking and crying out. I lean over my kill, watching it twitch as it weakens in its feeble struggle.

In my prey's final movements, I hover above it, my breath hot on the side of its face. The buck's black eyes roll to gaze upward, glassy and distant. Their center catches a shade of dark blue; two circles a shade lighter than the black, piercing and dangerous and whispering of a diseased mind.

I clamp my jaws firmly behind the buck's skull with a nice crunch.

With a final twitch, its body stills, and the black circle fades out of focus.

I work my way down, tearing and chewing. Every swallow slides down slowly, thick and wet. Blood stains the white of my fur. I make a muddy mess as I wear away at my kill, but I'm far past the point of giving a damn. I brace my paws against the deer's middle, my neck bent as I rip into fresh meat. While stripping off a slab, my hackles stiffen.

The lingering sense of another's presence rests against my flanks, even after the figure freezes in the brush behind me. I snort against the mangled flesh caught in my jaws, grinding through a wide bone. The presence hovers for a long moment before creeping away, coming around my side. I crunch through the final bits of the bone just as the faint snap and crackle of the brush cuts off. Lifting my head, I glance up to the sight of two muddy brown paws.

And stare evenly into the watchful gaze of a brown wolf.

Jared positions himself in the green brush, blending in naturally. His dark eyes appraise me warily before he greets me with a stiff nod. I curl my lip back and rumble a low warning, hovering over my kill. He shakes his head with a whine, prancing back a few paces. Jared huffs as I return to my kill, poking and prodding at the edge of my thoughts. A snarl slips through my jaws as I crack open my mind.

The pack link floods with Jared's thoughts, a one-lane route latched between the two of us. He scrambles to catch them for a moment, pulling back the jabber of recent conversations. He takes the time to form full sentences before throwing them at me, not taking any shortcuts.

 _We're all on First Beach_. Jared rolls his shoulders, his neck straight as he holds my gaze.  _No patrol tonight. Jake wanted me to come and see if you were. . ._

He stutters over 'bitten' before collecting himself, hacking to clear his throat. _Interested. Mhmm, yeah. That's what I meant._

I bark a dry laugh, snapping my teeth and leaning over to lower my head down to a small puddle.  _What is it this time? Hunting party for his lost little dick?_

Jared hesitates, grabbing another thought before it can form completely.  _No, he's, uh, fine. Jacob just . . . he wanted you to come to this. I dunno._ His dark gaze jumps between my muzzle and the bloody smears in the grass a few yards back. With a sigh, he shifts his stance.  _Look, I've done what I gotta do, said what I gotta say, yada yada. You can come on up if you want. Oh, and he wanted me to tell you nobody's forcing you. Forgot that part._

I huff, sending a circle of ripples across the surface of the shallow puddle. The water sloshes around my muzzle, snatching droplets of scarlet. They spread through the muddy water below me, coloring the dull brown. I run through the list of shit that either the King or Queen could be after, along with hopes for battle plans and a little action. By the time I turn back, there's nothing left of Jared but his large prints in the moist soil.

Something deep inside—maybe common sense, or some other bitching voice thrown to exile in the senseless part of my head—mutters warnings. I shake them off as I jump into a sprint, my temperature already climbing.

()()()

Sound.

Sound and smoke.

Sound and smoke and shots of hard liquor.

Music pounding out of speakers.

Fire eating away at stumps of chopped wood.

People slurping, laughing, constantly in motion.

This sure as hell isn't the kind of action I'm here for.

I duck through the trees step on to the beach, drawing in the scene before me.

Sam's the closest. He carries boxes of fireworks wrapped in one arm, the other circled around Emily's waist. Jared's already made his way here—he rushes through the waves, bent over as he splashes Kim, who squeals and hops back before giggling and sending a slap of water back at him. Embry and Seth tinker with a dusty radio while a few runts kick a sandy soccer ball into a fire, angering the elders seated in lawn chairs around it. Billy chuckles as Old Quil waves a stick threateningly, chasing them off.

My feet turn through the sand as I approach, keeping a good distance. I'm an outsider, better left to the edge of the wall they've created—a wall between what's natural and what shouldn't be here.

I wear their skin, but not their name.

They're protectors.

I'm a killer.

And it burns.

Currents swell from my core, igniting my veins and spreading like wildfire. The tiny hairs on my neck prick as the weight of another's gaze presses in. I work my jaw, studying the white foam rushing onto the shore before I glance over my shore and find a waiting glare.

Quil sits with his body slumped against a tree, resting inches from the shadows. He holds little Claire to his chest, stroking the knotted wave of her hair. She babbles on, even when Quil's thick hand freezes on the back of her head. I shield my expression with indifference. Quil stiffens, as rigid as I am motionless. His skin darkens to crimson, and sweat shines beneath the tiny curls matted to his forehead. A vein throbs in his temple, green and pulsing.

We stand off, Quil a statue of buzzing nerves and me a tower of aggressive force stacked high. Quil's eyes jump to the side after a few heartbeats, breaking the glare. I start to curl my lip at his weak will, but I stop short as my gaze follows his.

Off to the side of the group, Leah leans against a tree, her expression masked with shadows. She's waiting for a good escape, seemingly calm and patient, but the gleam in her eyes as they connect with mine are nothing but furious.

I combust.

The world around me shimmers as I move forward. Leah and Quil warp and twist, blurring into shapes and sounds. Claire vanishes, evaporating into the air as I throw the first punch. Quil shouts, but the sound is drowned out by the crunch of his jaw. Two thick arms swing at me. I deflect the strike with a shove and close my grip around his ribs, crushing him between my weight and the tree. My shoulder digs deep into his ribs as his body falls in, and he hangs like a rag doll.

Quil melts into the bark of the tree, disappearing just as another form charges me from behind with a cry like roaring thunder.

I twist, duck, and pivot at the same time, sending the charging figure flying past me. I rage, fixing my focus on the back of my opponent as she skids to a stop. Leah's head snaps back as she lunges again, but it's too late. I come down on her, hard, dragging her to the ground with me. Her head slams into a boulder, splitting her skull clean down the middle. She bucks and flails, desperate for escape. I hold her tight as I pick her apart, tear by slow, beautiful tear.

Ribbons of flesh flap into my palm while my fingers curve deep into her throat. Leah's infuriated screams fade to gurgles as her eyes bulge and then roll from their sockets. I quake, shaking her in my grip until her teeth rattle and spill from her torn lips.

But she won't fucking die.

In the middle of Leah's screams, I hear another voice. It's hot, burning into my eardrums. I ignore it, my hands sticky and my body locked in the heat of the kill. The feminine shape below me starts to glow, and the squirming slows. I lean heavy against the rock, blowing ragged breaths through my teeth. The burn inside my head multiplies as the voice becomes clear and the faceless body below me cracks like ice.

_"This is a shell. This is your grave. This is your future. This is what you're meant to do. This is—this is all inside your head, damn it!"_

I blink. Reality's sucked back into focus, retracting from the bloody scene before me. My hands, dry and still, ball at my sides as the tree line falls together, settled in seconds. A copper shape stalks past my side—Leah, shaking her head and muttering every word in the book as she forces herself into the middle of the storm of motion behind. I tighten my jaw and glance at Quil. He sits motionless, his eyes glazed with a mixture of worry and anger.

A little hand stretches from his lap and pats his face. "Hewwo? Qwil otay?"

Quil sucks in a sharp breath. He glances into his lap and softens his expression with a gentle smile. "Sorry Claire, I was just. . . We can play patty cake now. Over there."

Claire frowns, turning her head, revealing the mess of bandage and casts covering her right side. "Wha? Why?"

Collecting Claire's body into his arms, Quil shakes his head. "It's more fun over there. Come on."

Quil hurries towards the water at an angle, avoiding my steady stare. I trail my gaze after him, the rest of the heat lingering in my skin. The taunting whispers gradually quiet in my ears until they're gone completely. I breathe in, drawing in the defined scents of activity on the beach. My senses bunch around a familiar musk coming up behind me at an unsteady jog.

"Jord! What do you think you're doin' way out here, huh?"

I turn, raising one brow, then the other. Paul staggers toward me, his shoulders hunched. He waves, his hand closed around the necks of a couple dark bottles. He grins lazily as he stops, remembering to keep his distance.

"Aw, c'mon, Jord," he whines, blowing the sweet smell of alcohol with every breath. "Don't tell me you forgot how to party around, you partyer-er."

I watch him, motionless, my eyes those of a burning corpse.

Paul snickers hard enough to shake his shoulders. "Shit, you're too funny, Jord." He waves an arm behind him, gesturing to the mass of bodies spread across the shore. "Rach, she's . . . she's Rach and she's over there. Yeah, there somewhere. Rach and her daddy-o are over there, and he's chattin' it up with her and shit. I think she's with her dad anyway. Can't tell sometimes. She sure is a horny little thing, so sometimes when it's not light outside, I. . ."

Tuning out Paul's drunken rambles, my ears roam the beach. Conversations vary from slurs of nonsense to casual talk about the warmth of the weather or the shirts and shoes littering the sand. Most of the pack stays in pairs and groups, other than Leah, who stays with her mother to help gather the elder's belongings. Only one conversation captures my ears, quiet and meant to be whispered below the radar. I follow my ears to the source of the sound, sharpening my senses.

Jacob and Nicole sit squeezed in beside each other on a rotting slab of driftwood. Their heads are bent in to conceal their conversation. I narrow my gaze, my mind blocking Paul's slurs as I hone in on the hushed words whispered from Nicole and Jacob's mouths.

"Bella again?" Nicole sighs softly. "She isn't our concern anymore. You know that."

Echoing Nicole's sigh, Jacob releases his frustration in a hot breath. "I don't know. I'm just putting out suspects. This all seems like a big distraction." He turns his head ever so slightly, leaning closer. "Something bigger than the Cullen's problems is out there. I know you, Nic, and I know you feel it too."

Minutes of shared breaths pass. Finally, Nicole reaches up to place her hand on Jacob's cheek. "One thing at a time. We can lead everyone through whatever it is—I know we can."

I drag myself into reality as Jacob presses his lips to hers, narrowly escaping the torture of their disgusting lovely-dovey act's finale.

A bottle's slapped into my palm. I stare blankly at Paul as he slurs and chuckles, holding conversation with himself. I pop open the bottle and drink it down, nodding my head without much notice. My ears pulse with the fading each of rings. The alcohol rushes through my system, racing my metabolism. It jerks my thoughts into focus, but doesn't have a chance to do much.

Paul laughs. The beach flickers, black and white with smears of grey stuck in between. Rachel approaches, wrapping around Paul. I see her looking in the corner of my eye, but don't react to her, even as my name finds its way into Paul's sentence.

I don't know what's tugging for my attention until Paul leans down to whisper in Rachel's ear. Over his neck, I pick out a group of three boys in a circle with what has to be Brady and Collin. They're all runts, roughly the same age, sporting freshly painted tattoos on their arms and wearing their hair in the same black crop. They grin and joke with awkward laughter and bowed heads.

As I study them, Collin's eyes wander my way. I can see his body lock up as the blood rushes from his face. He hurriedly hides his face in the circle, waving his hands for silence. Moments later, four other heads pop up and look my way, reddening simultaneously. Collin slaps his hand to his forehead with a groan.

A grin spreads my lips, nowhere near friendly. Amusement lightens my chest as I approach them, leaving Paul to suck on Rachel's neck, too wrapped up in her to notice. My strides are even as I close in, cornering them against a cluster of boulders.

"This is all your fault, man!" Collin snaps. He casts an irritated glance at Brady as he retreats.

"What the hell? You were the one that said something! It's  _your_  fault!"

Forgetting where they were headed, Collin stumbles into the group of boulders and topples over, his flailing hands unable to catch his weight. Brady crosses his arms over his chest with a huff. "Told ya so."

I come to a stop before the group of them. Brady glances over his shoulders and wipes the content grin from his expression. Collin clambers out of the boulders, but slows his movements. They glance at each other, then at the same time shove the three runts cowering ahead of them toward me, ducking behind their backs.

I have to tilt my head to look down at them. They gaze up at me, their eyes moonlit and sparked with fear. The runt in the middle's dark eyes pull a memory forward—a yellowish-white wolf trembling in the leaves beneath me, waiting for death to come down on him.

Cracking an amused sort of smile, I shift closer. "Gonna say something, or shit yourselves?"

The taller of the three shies with a sheepish bow of his head. The second snorts, puffing out his chest and speaking for the other runt. "I'm Daniel. I just joined the pack, phased a couple days ago." He jerks his chin behind him. "That's Grant. He phased after me."

"And I'm Jackson. Still." The last runt nods proudly, even though he refuses to meet my gaze and instead takes a long look at my chest. It takes every ounce of the little bits of my willpower to pretend like I don't notice.

I nod once, meeting their uneasy stares. "Curious little things, aren't you?"

They exchange a look, their expression puzzling. Grant frowns, and Jackson's brow furrows. "Huh?"

Impatience creeps higher. I exhale sharply. "What do you want? Or do you gawk at women for fun all the time?"

Jackson blushes beat red and swallows hard. He opens his mouth to stutter, but no words come out. Grant hangs his head with a loud breath, and Daniel just smiles stupidly like he has no idea what I'm saying. I grind my teeth, waiting.

Brady pops up from behind Grant's shoulder. "They want advice!" he whispers.

"Yeah!" Collin echoes. "They want you to show them how you gave Embry them big huge scars!"

I should laugh, but no sound comes out. Brady and Collin make their escape in the heartbeat of silence, hurrying through the rocks with shirts tugged on backwards, tags flying and fabric bulging with the concealed shapes hidden in their covered arms. I turn my gaze back to the runts, slowly starting to gather my thoughts. Everything's shiny again, shiny and hot. I work my jaw as the words start to come to me.

Just then, Paul strolls with Rachel under his arm, snorting as he gloats, shouting for the whole damn beach to hear.

"Yeah, I kicked that 'sucker's ass! Just last morning. Almost cracked my tooth, but I got it right in the throat and sent that bitch to hell!"

I snort, muttering under my breath, "Dumbass."

The runts are deaf to my comment. Grant widens his eyes, gawking in disbelief, while Jackson and Daniel whisper excitedly to each other, suddenly animated. Paul finally finds the perfect time to take notice and stops beside the runts, radiating pride and smugness.

"So if you want some real advice," he continues, pulling himself up tall. "You ask the pro!"

"You're freakin' awesome!" Jackson grins brightly at Paul, in awe of every lie in his act.

Daniel nudges Jackson, nodding to the empty bottle clenched in Paul's hand. "Dude, we should get some of that."

Jackson shoves Daniel back with a huff. "That's illegal!"

Daniel throws his arms out to catch himself, landing on his palms. He picks himself up, brushing pebbles from his arm. "So?"

As an argument breaks out, I'm fading again, abstract and unreachable. Even Sam's call can't rein me in, even as it gives way to another flurry of motion.

"Over here, guys. We're gonna start up."

Jacob and Nicole stand together, plastering smiles on their faces. Jackson and Daniel grin at each other, shouting an identical 'Sweet!' before sprinting toward the group of chattering pack mates, leaving a kickback of sand behind them.

Paul growls after them. "C'mere, you lil' snots! I'm gonna show ya how it's done right!"

With a heavy laugh, he takes off after them. Rachel smiles, amused, and joins Kim by the fire. I edge toward the trees as Sam and Jared set up the fireworks. Only Leah looks my way, though she averts her gaze and settles in the sand beside Sue. I exhale sharply and pull myself together, tilting my head to the sky as the show begins.

Rockets of color release searing whistles as they shoot into the inky-black sky, puncturing the black with their brilliant colors—crimson, purple, gold, and green. The bursts of colors explode in bursts of raining sparks, lighting up the night sky. Masculine hoots and hollers rate each display while the girls giggle and gasp behind them. I study a line of yellow as it rises before opening with a boom. The sprinkle of its heat scatters across the sky before fading to black.

Taking advantage of the moment of darkness, I slip into the forest, unnoticed by the group of half-naked people shouting drunkenly to the sky as another round starts.

I start at a jog.  _One, two. One, two. Two, one. One, two._ The air, stuffy weight in my lungs, enters and exits my body in a steady rhythm. It's not long before the voices mute and the bass pounding from the radio fades into nothing.

After a good half-mile, the trees flicker. A massive oak stutters before me, diving into a crooked lean before snapping back into place in the blink of an eye. My breaths are thick and dry in my throat. My bare feet whisper across the brittle ground below as I start to build speed. A knot clenches in my stomach, tight and solid.

And then, out of nowhere, the world's engulfed in flames. I go into a frenzy, breaking into a sprint as I tear my way through. My strides grow as I push my legs to their limits, forcing my body to strain towards that burn of being on that edge between flying and crashing. The brush warps as the forest teeters before my eyes.

I don't know when it starts, but eventually, I lose my human skin. One second, my hands tear out a patch of gnarled brambles, and the next they're paws, pushing me harder than ever before. I inhale, rounding a corner and soaring over a small dip in the forest, before I shed the wolf and find myself bare to the charging winds with a hurricane of voices bombarding my thrumming eardrums.

_"I can't help but think it's a distraction."_

_"Two days is enough time to come to an agreement, is it not?"_

_"Jordan . . . you don't want to do this."_

I'm a blur, twisting and exploding with every thunderous slam of my heart in my ribs. My hair, thrown over my shoulders with my speed, slaps the side of my face as I pivot back to escape the salt of another beach nearby. The split second my vision disappears triggers an injection of raw, infuriating buzzes into every nerve in my body, ripping me into the wolf once again.

The monster howls within me. I want to do this—I want to put her in her rightful place. I snarl through the curves of my teeth, throwing myself forward with each pressured lunge. This is a distraction.

The  _one, two; one, two; one, two_  has sped into a furious mix of uncontrolled screams and sounds. I ram my weight into a tree, finding myself coming full-force against a wide trunk. I flash my teeth, tearing deep furrows into its base while my body connects with the trunk, over and over and over, until there's chunks of damp wood and shaken leaves covered over my coat. I spit, emptying my jaws and glancing up, tensed and convulsing. Instead of striking again, I watch as the oak gives in, groaning as it topples down, flattening out a line of smaller trees before meeting the ground with a bang.

All at once I'm crouched, my fingers dug deep into the sodden earth as my body heaves each hot, shuddering breath. My gaze freezes on the cracked trunk of the fallen tree as my mind reels in reverse, heading farther and farther away. Just as I'm about to release the line and fall in, my muscles bunch, and I pick up on a scuffle in the near distance.

My mind tries to reject the sound, but instinct tells me different. I curl my lip, straightening my stance as I turn and stand in one fluid movement, leaning forward into the empty forest. Pricked and ready, I narrow my gaze as I wait, silent.

Just a second later, the scuffle comes again, and I watch as Jacob steps around a tree, his eyes cast toward the sky as he approaches. His pace is slow and careful, uneasy over the brittle ground. He holds crumpled clothing in his extended hand.

After a few paces, Jacob pauses, keeping a good few feet of distance between us. Lifting his hand, he squeezes his eyes shut and gestures to the clothing. "Nicole thought you could use these."

I hook a finger around the clothes, pulling them from his grip and over my skin in seconds. I hold his gaze even as he avoids my own, stiff and indifferent. Jacob blows out a breath, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his cutoffs as he swallows, bobbing his head for a few moments before speaking.

"And uh, I guess I wanted to say that if you need help, we're here. . . You know, like me and Nicole, Sam and Emily, Billy. . ."

Jacob's words, tossed into the frigid air between us, never reach my ears. I don't blink as I assess his features, searching for any signs of an oncoming bitch-out. Instead, I find the loss of his youth. There are lines on his face that shouldn't be there. His face is hardened and his hair shaggier than I remember. Hell, if I can remember—there's not much to see through the blur of imprint block covering his face. His gaze is dark

Breathing a short sigh, Jacob scratches the back of his head. "Really, I just came to ask you to come back. We're having a pack meeting and we need everyone there, no matter what."

Because the wolf still thrashes inside me, I know better than to say much of anything. I end up clenching my hands to stop the quivering. My gaze doesn't waver. "No matter how fast I can bring hell rising out of the ground?"

Jacob lifts his thick brows. He stares at me for a long moment before shaking his head and retreating, his bare feet crunching on the ground. "Yeah, so . . . never mind. Don't be too long."

Once his footfalls are replaced by the tickle of a breeze in the treetops, I find myself still in the same exact place, my gaze fixed on the place he left. He hasn't suffocated me this time—the chain's dropped at my feet. I could run loose, exercise the monster, even with the chance of no return. But the longer I stare, the larger the chain grows, and eventually I move forward, muttering bitter nonsense under my breath.

To hell with it.

The air has teeth. It snaps at me as I step onto the pebbly surface of the beach, moving toward the scattered circle of the back. My ears tune in to sort out the whispers from the drunken snickers of those still stumbling in the sand with trembling hands and bloodshot eyes. I hone in on the uttered words, throwing up walls as my hearing strengthens.

"She just needs to talk to someone. God, I swear, all she wants to do is walk around, all pissed off and snappy."

"She's worse than Leah was! I mean, is."

"Shh! She could hear us!" There's a huffed sigh. "I agree. She has Sam and Nicole who care about her, why doesn't she tell them what's wrong and get over it?"

"I— Crap. Never mind, we can talk about this later."

I shoulder through Brady and Collin. They jump with a start, stammering through a slur of apologies. I leave them behind, hiking through the sand to the other end. A few of the runts shuffle aside as I brush through them and finally find my place in a small rise close to the tree line. I fold my arms loosely to my chest and wait.

Almost as if on cue, the pack's talking fades into silence. I look down as Jacob and Nicole appraise the pack, approving the ring of bodies formed around them. The couples scoot closer and the runts straighten their posture and Jacob's step forward. Orange flames flicker on his russet skin as he clears his throat, speaking lowly.

"It's official." Jacob rolls his shoulders, swallowing. "Tomorrow, the army of vampires from Seattle will have made their way here."

"Aw, shit, Jake," Paul groans, interrupting whatever Jacob tries to say next. He shakes his head, rocking on his heels as he sways, nearly pulling Rachel over. "C'mon. They're fucking _babies_. We'll crush 'em before they even know what's coming!"

The echo of Paul's comment leads into a series of hushed arguments. I trail my gaze over the rest of them, tasting the growing tension on my tongue. Hesitation is clear in many worried expressions, lit by the flickering orange glow of the fading flames. My ears pop as the tension crackles above our heads.

Paul swings his fist through the empty air, his voice ringing down the beach. "That it, huh?" he taunts, releasing fumes. "You're all hotshot alpha Jacob, but you won't let us take out the little baby leeches either? What a fucking pussy!"

A smirk twitches on my lips as I hang back, letting the scene unfold before me. Rachel grips Paul's arm with both her hands, desperately trying to stop the raging heave to each of his breaths.

"Paul, please. . ."

Biting her lip, Rachel glances over her shoulder, her gaze shining with something that adds a tint of color to her cheeks. Her dark eyes pass right over me, landing on a figure before me.

Nicole shakes her head, pinching her nose to calm herself. Jacob gawks at her, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. She shoots a risky glare my way before stepping back to stand beside Jacob. I fix her with my complete attention, focused and razor-sharp. She flinches slightly before clearing her throat and releasing an aggravated sigh.

"Please," she begins. Her voice rises above the others, abruptly ending all other conversations at once. "Jacob isn't finished yet."

"Whatever," Paul mumbles. He drapes an arm over Rachel's shoulder, drawing her into his side as she relaxes.

Jacob scans the loose circle around him, his nostrils flexing as he fills his lungs. In the short moment of silence, he changes. His shoulders broaden and his head raises. The dark brown of his eyes intensifies as he turns to meet every gaze at once.

"Tomorrow, we'll be faced with a battle. I've already went over and spoken with the leader of the Cullens themselves to make sure there wasn't any loopholes. It's all set, but there is a possibility that some of us might not return." He nods to himself, his knuckles paling around Nicole's hand. "And I just wanted to make it clear that no matter what happens, we're all doing this to protect the tribe. We're made for this."

_And that's why there's no reason to shit yourselves._

I clench my jaw as Jacob finishes. The circle tightens, huddling in together. I lean back on the outside, taking in the uneasy tension written across the backs of the pack. I barely hear Jacob order the pack to Sam's—the words don't process through until everyone is suddenly in motion around me. They all brush by, though nobody comes too close.

The leashes around their necks are almost visible. I glance over my shoulder, not masking my disgust as they march along, one by one, prisoner to Jacob's will. My teeth click then as I shake my head, muttering under my breath.

"You could stay back, you know."

Pivoting, I face the tree line with narrowed eyes. Nicole slips around a wide tree, her hands full of bits of plastic wrappers and forgotten lighters. I squint my gaze further and flex my jaw as her icy gaze settles.

"Hell no." I laugh bitterly, curling my fingers into my palm. "You don't count leech graves by the one who slaughtered their sorry asses, fucked up or not."

Nicole shrugs indifferently, though she makes a point to promptly turn her head. "If you say so."

She nods, and without a second thought, turns back into the shadows.

I study the shake in her long, brisk stride as she goes. Her hair shivers in the light breeze, quivering above her shoulders. I wait until she's gone before drawing in a slow breath and tasting the flavor.

Bitter. It's bitter, sour with the stench of fear. I curl my lip, letting the scent slip through the clenched wall of my teeth and burn in my throat.  _Fear._

I set forward with the idea of it hot in my chest, blazing as hot as the fuel lit in my lungs.


	61. A Lovely Surprise

_"Your golden lies_  
 _Feed my role_  
 _In this forgotten space race_  
 _Under my control."_  - Muse.

* * *

Chapter Sixty One

A Lovely Surprise

* * *

*Volterra*

The throne room buzzes, the air stirring with an electric tension found only in the presence of serious matters soon to be dealt with. Aro, relaxing in his throne, remains calm, seemingly immune to the infectious spark of energy. His brothers situate themselves in their thrones on either side of him, still as stone as they wait.

Guards line the shadows, their hoods drawn over their blank, expressionless faces. Renata darts behind the thrones, assuming her place behind Aro's shoulder. Spreading his long, white fingers over the arms of his throne, Aro releases a patient sigh. Silence hovers, but not for long. Soon, the click of heels and the race of a human heart becomes painfully audible far down the hall, deafening in the ears of the immortal king.

Two pairs of pale hands snatch the heavy rings dangling from the wide entrance, parting the towering doors with a muffled groan. A young woman shuffles through, pasting on a bright smile finished off with cherry-red lipstick. She holds her head high, her burgundy dress clinging smugly to her curves and her blonde ringlets settled on her left shoulder. The woman approaches the thrones, pausing a respectful distance from the leaders. She draws a calming breath through her parted lips before resting her violet gaze on the chalky-looking man seated in above her. Her hammering pulse jumps to her throat as she meets his calm, milky stare.

Smiling through the insatiable ache in his throat, Aro appraises the young woman, mildly interested. "Ah, Bianca. Lovely, as always," he greets with formal politeness. His eyes trail down to her empty hands, lingering. "What might we have here, hmm?"

Bianca's lips curve in response. She tucks her arms behind her back, wringing her hands together against her dress. "The returning guards are just outside the city. They will be here shortly, sir."

Aro cocks his head, blinking. His smile stretches his lips, expectant.

"Master," Bianca amends. Her throat bobs with her nosy swallow. "They will return soon, Master."

"That is wonderful news." Aro waves his hand. "Thank you, Bianca."

Bianca nods, her shoulders relaxing. She dips her head politely, her eyes scanning the walls around her before she turns and hurriedly clicks back to the doors. The same pairs of hands slam them shut behind her.

Caius' low voice disrupts the silence following Bianca's departure. "Our young assistant has been quite off-task as of late. Perhaps her time is running out."

"Perhaps," Aro murmurs, his tone neutral. He folds his hands and rests them on the knee of his bent leg.

"We seem to be rather inactive ourselves," Caius presses. He runs his eyes along the guard stationed against the walls, frowning. "Almost . . . tolerant. Surely we don't plan to allow our laws to be misused to the point in which they may seem insignificant."

Aro's gaze sharpens at Caius' suggestion, zeroing in on the smooth texture of the great doors' handles. "Ah, but that is not the case here, my brother," he reasons, his tone lightening with forced indifference. "We mustn't be careless. If an extra measure of patience may prevent violence, then wait we shall."

Caius leans arrogantly into his throne, the shape of his lips expressing his extreme disapproval. Aro's crimson gaze flickers to a particular shadow, holding it for the briefest second. After a minute, Caius gradually relaxes, the burn of his irises dulling.

In the far distance, the chime of the clock tower sings. Dust swirls, caught in the beams of sunlight filtering through the glass ceiling above. Time ticks by, passing without notice to the gathered immortals until finally, the faint swish of cloaks and the whisper of careful footsteps sounds far down the hall.

Aro brightens, leaning forward as his guard breezes into the throne room, forming a line before him. He beams at the small figure in the point as she brushes her hood back, revealing her angelic face. The others follow in suit, with Alec lifting his head beside his sister and the bulk of Felix tall behind them.

"Welcome," Aro greets cheerily, clasping his hands together over his crossed legs. "I assume all went well."

"Yes, Master," Jane replies smoothly. "Our mission was successful."

Aro's smile falters slightly as his gaze travels over the three guards, counting.

Cauis narrows his eyes, breaking the heartbeat of hushed patience. "Well? What did you find?"

"The army in Seattle is growing," Alec reports. "Their numbers fluctuate. All of them are unstable, and none of them appear to be informed of the law. The humans in the area have taken notice, although their blame is currently pointed at an enemy among their own kind."

Satisfied, Caius nods, though his expression doesn't relax. Beside him, Aro tilts his head ever so slightly, his hands tightening.

"Has Demetri taken it upon himself to expel their fears?"

Felix shakes his head, his broad shoulders taut. "He's on his way."

At that very moment, the doors part. A fourth cloaked figure steps in beside Felix, removing his hood. His eyes, pitch black, lower with his apologetic bow. "I have been kept by a few last minute duties to attend to. Forgive me, Master."

Aro claps his hands together gleefully as he assesses his guard. "All is forgiven, Demetri."

Demetri lifts his chin, running his gaze across the three leaders. "There is another reason for my late appearance."

After a short nod from Aro, Demetri lifts his chin, a fierce anger brightening the vibrant reds of his eyes. "Upon our return, we came across what may be a pack of Children of the Moon. They were wolves, on four legs, despite the moonless dusk. There was a nomad in the area of which we fully intended to bring back with us. Unfortunately, curiosity led him too far into their territory and a few of the werewolves ended his life. They were strong, and they ended his life rather effectively."

A crack echoes against the walls. Caius' fist clenches in a dent in the arm of his throne, blazing. "You must go back!" he hisses. "We must eliminate them all!"

From the far side of the room, the third brother offers his opinion in a low rasp. "I would assume this issue is important. However, we must stick to the matters of our . . . own kind, first and foremost . . . Brother."

"No!" Caius snaps. "No, the Seattle conflict must wait!" His head snaps over to Aro, his gaze ice. "Brother, have you forgotten the harm of which those beasts are capable?"

Aro raises a hand, his long fingers limp and calm despite the icy glare set on him. "Let us approach the issue at hand carefully." Leaning into his throne, Aro drums his free hand on the arm, wearing a smile that could be sunny if not for the tint of venom dampening his composed expression.

"Certainly this pack is large in numbers," Marcus murmurs, blank. "If we were to wait, the Seattle newborns may create a large distraction for the Cullens."

"Ah, yes. The Cullen coven requires a visit," Aro agrees. He glances at Jane. "Jane, dearest, have you found any information on the Cullens? Specifically further information regarding their promise?"

"The girl is still human, Master." Jane smirks, clearly pleased by the direction of the conversation.

Aro rises in a sudden, elegant movement. "Very well. We shall discuss in privacy before making our final decision. Come, brothers."

As he gestures his shadow and escort to him, Felix steps forward, his deep voice stalling the leaders' exit. "Master, there is another side to this story you may be interested in hearing."

Caius growls under his breath. Aro dismisses the sound and turn over his shoulder, his brow raised. "And whose side may this be, Felix?"

"There is a visitor waiting outside the doors. She was at the gates upon our departure, although we did not grant her wish to bring her to you until we had crossed paths a second time while on our mission. She led us out of werewolf territory with the promise she would provide further information if we went with her, and proceeded to bring her to you directly." Felix cocks a brow, his lips twitching. "Shall I grace her with your presence, Master?"

Aro's expression lightens with an patient curiosity. "I'd be most delighted."

Felix and Demetri exchange a nod before darting through the doors. They return heartbeats later with a female vampire held in their stern gloved grips, guiding her forward. At first, the female vampire is nearly unrecognizable, but when she darts a glimpse at the leaders before her, there's no mistaking her.

Aro's lips raise slowly as he gazes deep into the burning scarlet of the woman's stare. "Ah, Miss Cullen! How very lovely it is to see you!" he crows.

His eyes darken hungrily with his words. He floats forward, fully turning to face the woman trapped between the smirking guards before the throne. "My, this is very curious, isn't it?"

 


	62. Bleed

_"I believe the world is burning to the ground  
_ _Oh well, I guess we're gonna find out."_  - Matchbox 20.

* * *

Chapter Sixty Two

Bleed

* * *

*Emmett*

So what?

So what if I've torn the mattress without any "help?" So what if I've given myself feelings that are meant to be felt with someone else? So what if the name rolling off my tongue hasn't been in the room with me for a good ten minutes?

It doesn't matter what kind of guy you are. When a woman with a body like that invites you through that special doorway, there's no way to pass the offer up. I'm no exception. The only problem is, my woman had to leave me on the doorstep, even after she'd opened the door.

Without getting too personal, I think it's safe to say I took myself through the rest of the way.

Guilty as charged. But hey, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.

I pace, alone. Window to door, wall to wall, corner to corner. With every step, my chest aches a little more. I mull over the same internal pep talk again and again, trying to coach myself out of it. Everything's okay.

So why the fuck does everything hurt?

Life is all motion. Everything moves right along without a boring day of nothing stretching between. The problem is, everything's rolling so fast, there's no place to stop for a moment.

There's no time for her to catch her breath.

Who's fault is that? Mine? Hers? Ours? No one's?

I try not to think about it. There's always going to be parts of Jordan that I can't understand. I get that. But right now, nothing makes sense. And in the land of walking steroids crying wolf and cousins bursting through closed doors like there isn't anything special going on, the chance of the house-breaking marathon that could let us forget everything for a while is small.

I mean small. Like, "Edwardian ego post-Bella cock block" small.

I'm about to give in to the looming impulse to release my frustration on the plaster and wood surrounding me when the soft tap of knuckles on my door touches my ears. I glance over my shoulder as the door cracks slightly. A tiny voice speaks through the space.

"Em? Are you, um . . . done?"

Chuckling, I wipe the frustration away. After a quick check to make sure my special areas are covered, I stroll to the door and pull it wide open. Spikes of black hair and gleaming gold gaze up at me. I grin, folding my arms and leaning against the door frame.

"What's up, short stack?"

Alice rolls her eyes, smiling and shaking her head in that Alice-y way of hers. "It's time to head to the clearing." She hums to herself, spinning back into the hall and glancing over her shoulder. "Coming, big shot?"

I crack my knuckles before pushing off the wall and following after her, grinning as if I've never had a care in the world. "Time to kick some ass."

*Jordan*

The pack crashes at Sam's. Many drop like flies the second they're through the door, while others have yet to burn off the buzz. The last few hours worth of energy lead to half-naked wrestling matches and drunk imprint sex in the guest rooms. After the voices fade into snores, I make my escape.

I pass through the living room with a bottle gripped between my fingers, stepping over piles of runts, their hanging mouths smeared with evidence of their late-night snack raid. Cans of soda, crushed Doritos bags, and the broken glass of what used to be a dozen beers litter the floor around them. Above my head, the synchronized snores drag on.

I waste the darkness away in the kitchen, alone, when there isn't someone rushing in to steal from the fridge or crashing through the doorway in a storm of cracking noses and spluttered threats. I pull bottle after bottle from the stash hidden above the counter until the purples, reds, and blues come to visit. They secure me through the moaning and giggling prodding at my self control and prying my iron grip from the edge off the counter. By the time my heat devours the burn, a dull light seeps through the shades on the windows. By then, I have enough sense to force my stiff legs to carry me out to the porch.

Humidity soaks the world outside, sticky on my skin. The greens and greys settle into place as I lean against the wall, holding everything together. For a long moment, everything is so quiet, I'm almost convinced the forest is a soft, gentle place with no struggle.

But then the door creaks open and a woman dressed in a thin white gown steps through, shattering my moment of false reality with a hesitant innocence to her smile that rises bile in my mouth.

There's a muffled click, followed by the groan of boards under the pressure of approaching feet. I grit my teeth as a soft greeting reaches my ears.

"Hello, Jordan."

I turn the bottle in my hands. The swish of the liquid washing against the glass fills the thick silence boiling in the air around me. Emily clears her throat, sagging against the wall of the house. She swallows, the bob of her throat roaring in my eardrums.

"What's wrong?" Her whisper is careful, almost as if she's asking herself. "Why are you so . . . angry?"

Shaking my head, I lean my weight back and flip the cracked glass in my palm."I'm a raging bitch." I drag a blaze through a neck of the bottle, snorting. "Hell, I'm a self-aware raging bitch."

It's almost a lie. I don't have a damn clue what I am. But my words do push Emily a few steps backward, and that's a good start.

"I wanna make a good impression."

My lip curls around my words. "You made half the world aware of you and Sam's attempt at monkey sex, or whatever the hell that was." I swallow back the bitterness lingering in the corners of my mouth. "And I'm still not impressed."

Heat pulses from the small figure shrinking behind me. In the corner of my eye, I see her bite her lip through the curtain of black waves hiding her face. She clears her throat once more, stifling a cough. "I. . . I asked Sam not to go too hard on you. You know, when you accidently broke that window." She inhales, and the light pressure of her gaze on my neck disappears. "I know you were doing your job."

My head's a clutter of needles clinking together as their tips touch, stabbing and prodding my brain—pricks of reality searching for a way in.

I dry the bottle. Its bite claws down my throat, thick, hard, and sharp. In moments, the needles shatter, just like the brown glass raining through the spaces of my fingers. Numb, I flex my empty hand and shift closer to the edge of the porch, picking out patches of brown beneath the damp moss coating the trees.

Emily presses on, persistent. "Jordan, I. . . Look, you know I really do care about you, like it or not. And really, I want you to know. . ."

Weeds and vines snake around the trees, clinging.

"Okay, so that doesn't sound good either. What I mean to say is. . ."

Leaves shudder beneath the dull sky, shaky in the early breaths of morning.

"And if you ever,  _ever_  need anything at all, even just a snack or a roof over your head. . ."

Dew shines on blades of grass, reflecting the traces of light creeping into the grey above.

"Remember that Sam and I are always going to be here for you."

Emily's smile touches the back of my neck again, giving off an air of pleased relief. I clench my hands, my pulse thrumming steadily in the base of my palms. I tick the seconds away to the beat of approaching footsteps, my gaze frozen on the stretch of grass separating the yard from the woods.

"Am I missing something?"

Over my shoulder, I keep an eye on Sam while he trudges toward the porch. His hair, shaggy and ruffled with sleep, brushes the top of the door as he pushes through. His long arms circle Emily the instant she's in reach, and he presses his lips to her forehead. His broad shoulders shift as he steps between us, shielding Emily with his body. I shake my head with a silent snort, turning back to the trees.

They talk quietly in murmurs for their ears only, but my hearing catches every word.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Great, thank you." Emily giggles.

Sam chuckles with her, then sighs heavily, swallowing. "She didn't. . ."

"No, Sam. I actually had a very nice talk with her."

There's a short second of silence. "Do you think you can manage making breakfast? I'm sure Nicole would help keep the pack out of your hair."

"Of course! I'd love to."

"Okay." Boards creak beneath shifting weight. "I love you," Sam mumbles.

Their lips touch, and there's nothing else for them to say. Hurried hands fumble with the door, yanking it open. Emily's brisk footfalls pass through the door and down the hall. Sam hesitates for a second, the sound of his breathing as light as his questioning stare on my turned back. After a heartbeat, his steady strides trail after Emily, and the door clatters shut behind them.

()()()

Stuffed to the brim with sausage gravy and the grease of Emily's fried breakfast, the pack files out, one by one. My shoulder nicks the edge of each passing tree as I pace the tree line, my paws soft against the brittle ground. Jacob and Nicole hold themselves high by the porch with Jared flanking them, counting the wolves barreling off the steps and throwing themselves into their wolves. Each shimmer jolts my mind as the pack link fills with each racing set of thoughts. Jared exchanges comments with Jacob, keeping up a casual conversation about something too important to have ever reached my ears.

Collin and Brady stagger outside last, groaning and pushing against each other. They stumble down the stairs, nearly tumbling over the rails. Collin lands sprawled on his stomach, and Brady crashes down on top of him. Their thoughts throb, distressed and distracted.

Nicole snuffs, shaking her head as she rests her gaze on the two of them.  _Neither of you will be coming along_. The order comes clipped with irritated bluntness.

Brady raises his head off of Collin's shoulder blade, his bloodshot eyes opening wide.  _What! Why not?!_

Collin whines into the mud.  _Yeah. What. . ._  He flinches against a stab of pain splitting his pounding thoughts.  _What about the others? There are two . . . three wolves smaller than us!_

Nicole glowers. The other wolves' pacing slows, minds sparking with eager excitement. The pack's attention sharpens, centering on the runts collapsed in the grass and the alpha glaring holes into their pelts.

 _Jackson, Daniel, and Grant have all put a good effort into their patrols and have trained without slacking._ She pins back her ears, her lip twitching over her teeth.  _And we will pretend to have forgotten that little alcohol incident at the beach last night. For now. Unless either of you would like to deal with that now?_

Excuses bubble in Brady's head, but a shove from Collin quiets them. Brady shakes his head, rolling off the dark wolf below him. _Ha, yeah. . . We're good._

 _That's what I thought._ Nicole shakes her fur, huffing. _You two will stay back and make sure nothing comes by here. Quil's mother will be bringing Kim and Claire by soon._

With a nod, Nicole returns her attention to her russet companion. Her thoughts warm. _Are we ready now?_

Jacob lifts his head. His dark eyes scan the pack, jumping through the wolves gathered in the yard before finding me pacing in the tree line. His gaze hardens as it connects with mine, though it flickers away before it can settle. _We're ready._

And just like that, everything's in motion.

I flank Nicole, blasting through the brush on her heels with Jared at my shoulder. We move in sync, fueled by the excitement swapped from mind to mind. It sings through our veins, electrifying the instinct to hunt and kill in even the most innocent of us. The morning forest parts around me, giving way to rocky slopes and towering pines. Jacob races through the mountainside, following a scent ingrained in the fading corners of his memory.

Jacob flicks his ears when the terrian roughens, nosing the side of Nicole's face before breaking away from the pack and disappearing around a pine. Nicole presses forward, shifting to run in the center as she leads the pack. I cast a suspicious glance at Jared over my rolling shoulders. He shrugs dismissively, focused straight ahead.

Nicole leads us through a path made up in her own head. The trees start to thin, and so does the air. A growl slips through my teeth, my stretched muscles tensing. I taste the stench of leech on my tongue. Wolves rile from farther back, but Nicole ignores it. She leaps over a slab of bare rock, nodding for Jared to fall in place beside her. I lunge after Jared, landing soundlessly on the ground at his side. The rest of the pack files in, with Paul wordlessly filling the place to my left.

I don't acknowledge him. I stretch the scents in my nostrils as we creep forward, my senses on high alert. Pines press into my fur as I pass through, moving forever closer, until finally, I find myself braced against hard ground and gazing into a clearing nestled into the side of a steep slope.

 _What gives?_  Paul grumbles. His ears perk as he pushes through a pine's prickled branches.  _We aren't here to stand around._

His words don't disrupt my focus. I study the shape of the tent built against the mountainside, my nostrils honing in on it. Through the blue fabric, shapes shift and move. My nostrils twitch as a snarl cracks through my teeth. The pack link floods with unease, but Nicole holds her ground, silent.

Hearbeats later, Jacob emerges from the trees on the other side of the clearing, the sunlight lighting fire to his russet fur. The shapes shrink as three figures step into the clearing one by one. I snort as the leader, smiling warmly like Jacob's here for a friendly chat, moves forward. The stiff board of Edward shadows him with the frail, pale figure of the Queen of Forks' attached to his side, crunching across the ground like a lost moose. She tips her head down, averting her gaze as they come to a halt before Jacob.

Carlisle makes himself comfortable in the stretch of space between him and the wolf peering down at him. The sun's beams gleam off the venom of his teeth as he forms another smile. "Hello, Jacob. Do you have any questions regarding the matters of this afternoon?"

Edward's body freezes. My eyes slant as his expression blanks out completely, fading away from reality. His skin glitters, perfectly in need of a few deep gashes and rearrangements.

Jacob huffs, glancing between the two ice cubes. His ears flatten as his thoughts form, blunt and impatient.  _We'll take our share, if not more. There won't be any problems as long as you stay outta our way_.

The second Jacob's thought forms, Edward speaks, his toneless voice floating around the clearing. "We'll take our share, if not more. There won't be any problems as you get too close."

Carlisle nods slowly. "Fair enough," he reasons evenly. "We're already waiting for them. If you could line your pack south of the battle field so the newborns are unable to spot you at first, it would dramatically decrease the chance of changed plans and possible injuries."

Jacob dips his head, his paws working in the grass.  _We can do that._ He glances between them again, ignoring the girl in Edward's arms. _So, that it?_

Edward's yellow eyes dart up to Jacob, tightening ever so slightly. "Anything else?"

Carlisle takes a half-step backward, pressing his hands together. "No, that will be all. Thank you."

Jacob doesn't move at first, even as the small meeting comes to a close. The leader paces back toward the tent, giving off an effortless calm. Edward braces himself, his yellow eyes unblinking. Jacob meets his leering stare, holding his gaze. With each passing second, his heartbeat quickens, and his lip twitches a little more, showing another millimeter of sharp white teeth.

In the middle of the tension, the pale girl by Edward's side looks up. She wraps her arms tight around the rock beside her, taking a tentative step forward. Nicole's ears perk beside me, and her silver form slinks out of the trees and toward the human's back without a second thought. Jacob's gaze lightens as he glances up, staring straight through the girl to peer over at Nicole's approaching form.

Seeing the russet wolf begin to relax, Bella smiles. I growl lowly as Paul shifts forward beside me, suddenly charged. Oblivious, the girl takes another step forward, her arms slipping from Edward's torso.

"Jacob," she breathes.

Jacob's dark eyes rest on Bella for half a second. Her shoulders slump further, losing their tension. "Oh, Jacob, I'm so sorry." She stretches a hand out toward him, reaching to touch his face.

Jacob's muzzle wrinkles as he cracks a wolf grin and pushes right past Bella's outstretched hand to join the silver she-wolf behind her in a gentle wolfish reunion, bumping muzzles and affectionate rumbles. Nicole pushes her head into Jacob's broad neck, her icy eyes flashing smugness.

Bella gapes, frozen, her trembling hand slowly dropping back to her side. Her dull eyes blink furiously as she gawks at Jacob and Nicole's wolves, together, with her forgotten and left to her ice cube. Her sickly pale face reddens as realization starts to settle. She glances back at Edward, his face a solid mask of bottled anger. He hastily wraps a stone arm around Bella's waist and sweeps his stuttering pale stick away before the water works hit.

The instant they're gone, the pack animates. Chortles and coughs of barked laughter sound through the trees, while comments and close-ups of Bella's shocked expression progress from mind to mind. I rumble in amusement as Paul replays the situation in reverse.

Karma's a bitch, and I love it for that.

 _Alright, guys. That's enough_.

Jacob snuffs as he faces the pack, his gaze focused as he drains the distraction with a single look. Nicole backs him up with a huff of her own, slamming a paw into the crunchy grass beneath her. I snap my teeth lightly as flares sprint up my spine. Paul echoes the sound, shifting impatiently against the pine beside him.

 _You heard the Cullen,_  Nicole barks. She nuzzles Jacob's chin before twisting around and bounding into the forest, taking the point with Jacob at her side.

I snarl, coiling before throwing myself forward. The pack breaks into motion, moving as one as we thunder through the mountain in a sea of flashing teeth and beating paws. Again, the spark ignites, humming in my ears and pumping through my veins. I leap a boulder, crashing through a thick coat of bramble with Paul at my shoulder. We choose to run together, swapping scents and heated promises of the hell that we'll be bringing down on the parasites.

They won't know what hit them. But they'll feel it, raw and sharp as their damned life is torn clean out of throats and chests.

One moment, we're charging forward, together, and the next, we're coming to an abrupt halt. I kick up a spray of dirt and grass as I slam myself into a stop between two trees. Paul skids up next to me with a huff, the rest of the pack stumbling in and slowing to a stop. Jacob and Nicole pace the trees in opposite directions, their smooth movements shaken with their own adrenaline rush. Nicole glares into my gaze as she passes, her clear eyes reflecting the burn of instinct flaming in my irises.

 _We'll wait here_ , Jacob announces from far down the line.  _Until they give the signal._

 _Be ready,_ Nicole adds. She trots back to the middle, finding the point again and resuming her position with Jacob by her side. She appraises the rest of the pack, eyeing the paws tearing anxiously into the loam below with unease.

Jacob says something else, but it never touches my mind. I peer straight over the shoulders in front of me as a blur of white streaks flit into the clearing. They talk to each other in low whispers, deep in a conversation I couldn't give a damn about. It's not their whispers that distract my attention. It's the burly figure strolling in among them, towering over their heads as he steps through the trees with a confidence that shines bright in his eyes.

His golden gaze darts over to my stare almost instantly. He flashes a grin, his dimples popping.

"Hey, hot shot!" Emmett crows. "Gonna come give me some good luck?"

By now, the steady stares of every gaze in the pack avert my way. I shake them off with a warning snarl, raising my lip as I glance side to side. When I look back, Nicole's crouched before me, her silver form moving into my path. I snort as she moves in, leaping to the side and brushing straight past her without a second thought.

My body stiffens, every nerve on end as I jog into the clearing. I focus only on Emmett as he darts forward to meet me in the middle. I almost tackle him with the force of my speed, but he keeps his footing and braces his hands against my chest to keep the two of us from toppling over.

"Damn! Now _this_  is how you say I miss you."

I exhale lightly, the warmth of my body settling as it mixes with the ice of him. I nuzzle his neck, huffing against his skin. Emmett chuckles, shaking his head, and making some comment about not having any treats on him. I snap playfully at his ear, too caught up in the light, easy feeling that pounds in time with my heart to take offence. We joke for a few minutes with simple touches and playful gestures until the tension radiating from either side seeps into us and our smiles start to dim with reality.

Emmett's icy fingers skim through my ruff, pushing through my rough fur as his golden gaze locks with mine. He leans forward, his sweet, icy breath whispering across my face as he speaks slowly. "Okay, onto business." He nods once. "Game plan is simple. Three K's—keep head straight, keep close, and kick ass." He searches my gaze, bobbing his head. "Sound good?"

Inside me, the wolf protests, and my neck muscles contract beneath his hand. I huff through it, nodding and cracking a wolfish grin to ease the traces of hostile warning creeping into my expression. Emmett flashes his dimples and drops his hand.

"That's my lady. Come on, let's warm up."

Just like that, Emmett's beaming again, bouncing back on the balls of his feet and hopping like a boxer circling his opponent. I circle, keeping low and picking out the weak spots in his stance, waiting for the right moment to make my move. He curls his fists to his face, ducking to the side before throwing a blur of white straight for my muzzle. I deflect the punch with a jerk of my head, my body ready as I lunge for him. Emmett pauses, freezing on the spot as I connect with his body, slamming into a wall like brick muscle. I snuff at his widened gaze, wrapping my head around the back of his neck and holding him against the warmth of my body.

Emmett relaxes almost instantly. He pats the top of my head, chuckling. "Love you too, babe."

I start to pull back, but a sudden movement brings me to a stop. From the corner of the clearing, a small figure breezes in. She skids to a stop by the rock, her eyes wide. "They're coming!"

From there, everything zips by in fast-forward as I lock my mind in place and channel my thoughts into complete focus.

I nudge Emmett's forehead before slipping back into the pack. Embry's the first to pick up on the approaching suckers—he gags and hacks at a scent that has yet to reach any other noses. The pack riles, whimpering and baying and lunging rashly, but Jacob and Nicole herd the frantic wolves into place. I tear into the ground below me, shifting from side to side and knocking everything and anything—including a spluttering Paul—away. My gaze focuses in on the clearing on the other side, piercing through the line of gathered Cullens and into the trees.

In just over a minute, the whistle of dozens of whispering feet hits my ears. The scents of too many leeches at once hits the pack in a cloud, driving me closer to the edge. I block out the rest of the world, my vision tunneling as I channel every ounce of strength and raw power stored in every inch of my body into my waiting legs. Each short breath counts another second, inching my closer and closer to the edge of a static buzz that'll set me on the brink. Icy clarity sweeps my vision as adrenaline fires me up.

And all at once, leeches pour into the clearing from the other side. The Cullens charge to meet them, and with a howl from Jacob, I tear through the clearing, leaving the pack behind.

The Cullens stick to the far side of the clearing, working together to take out the first round, while the pack moves to take our half. I meet Emmett in the middle of the field, working between each side. The sounds of combat—striking bodies, ripping skin, furious shrieks and pained howls—fill my ears, slowly starting to take me over with pleasureable shudders and a heat that tears out all sensible thought and reason.

But Emmett is there through the heat, working with me, his grins and enthusiastic hoots and hollers holding me together.

The pack makes quick process. Paul works alone, swiftly taking out any leech that rushes for the wolf side. The rest of the pack teams up: Jacob and Nicole; Leah and Seth; Quil and Embry; Jared and Sam. Once the opponents start to thin, I notice Jackson, Daniel, and Grant off to the side, scrambling and yelping excitedly as they tear a struggling she-leech piece by piece.

After minutes, the fighting slows, coming to an end. My eyes catch the white streaks of leeches fleeing into the forest. I snarl out to grab Emmett's attention, setting my sights on a male vampire turning on its heel and heading from the wolf side of the clearing straight toward the Cullens. I throw myself forward, meeting its widening gaze as I catch the sucker on the side and yank it clean out of his stride.

My teeth sink deep in its torso. The parasite struggles, kicking and trashing and screeching as it claws through empty air. My jaws close, scraping bone as I twist and jerk, grinding in deep. Goosebumps race over my skin with each of its agonized screams that drive my hold in deeper. I perk my ears as a rush of movement breezes in behind me, throwing my weight to the side to raise the body of my prey high in the air.

The dull light catches the thrashing shape, igniting millions of diamonds on its skin. As it meets the sky, the knuckles of a clenched hand meet the side of its head, splitting the leech's face like ice. Emmett hops back as the force of his punch brings the head of the leech tumbling to the ground.

I jerk the headless body back, turning away to mangle the figure on my own, crunching and smothering as I make and a beautiful mess of bloodsucker puzzle.

Once I'm finished, Emmett steps in to smack the head on the top of the pile of leech scraps. He glances at me with a smug grin as he leans back, winking. "It needed a cherry on top to finish it off." He wipes his empty hands on his black jeans, giving the pile of our kill an approving nod. "Mmm. Yeah, that was definitely the work of my woman."

He reaches out with a balled hand, and I bump the side of my head against his fist. There's warmth in the tips of my fur igniting in every nerve of my body. Emmett laughs whole-heartedly, a proud gleam in his eyes as they grazy my form for any injuries. I huff at the thought, unable to stop the amused grin spreading around my jaws as my heart beats a little harder in my chest.

Emmett glances over his shoulder, distracted by the call of his little pixie. I glance over his shoulder at the tiny Cullen waving frantically at him. "C'mon, Em! We really gotta get going!"

Emmett shakes his head, sighing slightly to himself as he glances back at me. The right side of his mouth curls into a smirk as he searches my gaze one final time. His deep bass lowers as he brushes his finger tips along the side of my face. "I'll see you at midnight. The usual."

He winks, and then twists around and barrels after his family, gone in the blink of an eye.

The tingling heat evaporates, disappearing with him as time crawls at its normal pace and the static buzz morphs into thorns and knvies.

The pack mind becomes a live wire at the Cullens' departure. I jog through the flurry of movement, taking crushed limps and chunks of bodies in my jaws and flinging them into flames. Tunnels of purple smoke swirl into the sky above as the fires grow taller and taller. Energy crackles with the flames, though there's no room in my head to pay any mind to it. I grasp the tiny bits of warmth left, replacing the sickening stench of leech with the sweet traces of Emmett's scent trapped in my fur. Fragments of conversations—mostly endless questions fired from Brady and Collin, Daniel's boasting as he parades around the forest to look for straggling leeches for Jacob, and small talk about how Bella's sorry ass got cut up a little bit in the red-headed leech's escape—seep into my thoughts, but the rest is a hum.

Until one thought envelopes the pack mind, closing off all other thoughts and flooding my head. All movement stops as the pack stills, deaf to everything but the alarmed howl sounding a few miles into the distance.

An image, sharp and defined, spreads through the pack link, passing from mind to mind to mind. I shake my head violently, blinded as the picture of two pairs of wide crimson glares hit me. I'm immediately in motion, whipping around to head in the direction of the fading howl.

Jacob steps forward at the same time, skidding on the ground as I dart in his way. I snap my teeth, warning him back, but he blocks my path once more. I'm motionless, my lip peeled with my wordless threats. His dark eyes hold mine, reflecting the diseased hunger sparked inside them.

His thought blares, rising above mine and Daniel's frantic shouts.  _Daniel, stay back!_ Don't _try to get that alone._ He glances over his shoulder, jerking his chin toward the trees.  _Grant, Lee, wanna get that?_

The small wolf perks in the background, glancing around Jacob's shoulder. I twist to stare the blue-grey runt down, pinning him in place—daring him to make a single move. He quivers, his small eyes darting. _Um. . . I-I think—_

_Got it, Jake!_

The sandy shape of Seth bolts through the brush, his heart soaring with pride. Jacob starts to protest, but it's useless. I drag a paw deep into the worn ground below, tearing out a deep groove of earth that could have easily been the runt's throat. Impulse taints my thoughts red and purple as I snarl and spit, chained to the ground by the alpha's will. Jacob doesn't look away as he backs away, pretending the shakes racking through my body are invisible.

A snap echoes in the back of my head as a nimble grey she-wolf stalks toward the brush after her brother, her fur standing on end. _Don't think so, squirt. Get back here!_

Jacob sighs, shifting again as he takes another half-step away. _Give him a chance, Leah._ He glances at a cowering Grant, tipping his head to the forest again. The runt whines once, trembling, but quickly jumps forward, hurrying into the brush after Leah.

I'm left to stand alone as the pack retreats around the rock, spreading out to dive into senseless conversations while we wait for the alpha's next orders. Nicole trots in and takes Jacob away to the trees with her, their thoughts fading. Once Jacob's attention fades, I seize my chance.

I snap my teeth in the direction the two wolves disappeared in before lunging into the brush, headed after the warm scent of wolf.

I blur through the trees, winding and lunging. The ground spreads in sheets beneath me, and the trees sprout arms and reach out to catch me, but I never pause for any of it. The scent of various leeches is strong, striking a blaze in my nostrils. Hisses, snaps, snarls, and the occasional tear and crunch hit my ears just before I burst into a tiny clearing.

Seth fights alone against a single opponent, his agile figure ducking and darting around a she-leech's blows as it swings and kicks at him, infuriated. I stalk in a wide circle on the perimeter, my gaze set on the tiny bloodsucker, waiting for the slightest sign of retreat. The leech dances, twirling and leaping and diving, its rhythm evasive. Seth charges and slashes and gnashes his jaws, all without making a dent, until the leech makes a mistake.

I breeze around the perimeter, a ghost of silent stealth. After minutes of pulsing eardrums and heated thoughts of twisted 'sucker, I duck into the clearing, standing still and tall on the edge. The she-leech lands in a crouch, spits, and shoots a glance my way. It tips its head back, its mouth twisting as her eyes widen.

And in that second, Seth knocks it flat on its back, clamping his jaws into its shoulder and tearing in deep. I nod, rumbling at the jolt of pleasure following the screeches and shrieks as Seth tears into the vampire's side. As the sucker's struggle weakens, he risks a hopeful glance over his shoulder, hoping to find a russet figure watching him from the green.

As he turns his head, a streak of white strikes him square in the jaw. Blood spurts, and Seth yelps, hopping away. He whimpers, shaking his head and spewing droplets of crimson on to the grass. I see straight through him, my thoughts static as the she-leech turns and dashes toward the perimeter. My heart pounds adrenaline through me as I lunge over Seth, landing hard. I bunch my muscles on impact, zeroing in on the peak of the leech's spine, its hair whipping behind it as it nears escape.

I push off with a snarl, bringing my muzzle down as I meet the fleeing figure. My teeth slice through skin, crunching bone as gravity pulls me in.

I drop over the broken figure with a thump. A moment later, the leech's head falls beside me, its glazed, graping scream gazing up at me as its face rolls into the muck.

Seth's usual enthusiasm doesn't come. I gnash my teeth, pivoting back to see where he's run off to. Seth's on his feet, frozen behind me. As I step toward him, I see the glaze in his empty dark eyes as he sees something that isn't even there.

I become stone, pushing into the pack link.

A crashing wave of splitting cracks and tears crash through me, the impact like a train speeding downhill and connecting with my skull at full speed. I tumble into the blackness with the agonized mind of another, falling a million miles downward in a single second.

I snap back up in a second as reality hits. I throw my weight against Seth's side, charging over him. He scrambles in the mud before shooting after me, his breath hot on my flank. The pack mind bursts into a frenzy as we rush in from all directions, headed toward the pull of a presence. I push myself faster, tearing through the flat lands as the thoughts grow clearer.

First the tang of blood, then the soft whimpers, and finally the crushed brush around me. I charge through it until I find myself charging straight towards Leah's nimble grey form hunkered down into the grass. She bleeds out her muzzle, and patches of fur are torn from her shoulder, but nothing sticks out more than the light of unspoken panic in her brown eyes.

When I slow enough to bunch my muscles and near her, I see why.

On the ground at her feet, the shape of a small male wolf lies limp, his giant paws kicking weakly at the ground. Blood streams from his ears and leaks out his muzzle, mixing with the dirt and grass caught in his blueish-grey pelt. The white coloring of his hide is matted with blood gushing from his split torso. His ribs point to the sky, torn and twisted.

And on his neck there's a slash, a line of punctured holes the shape of a jaw.

But his dark eye still blinks and his heart still pounds, even as he bleeds the warmth from his body.

There's only a heartbeat between my appearance and the rest of the pack's. They circle in through the trees, stopping as they catch a glimpse of the mangled mess of Grant. Many minds fill with a sort of shocked disbelief—something I've long since become immune to. Nicole shoves through the pack, though she freezes in her tracks at the sight of the blood. Only Jacob has the guts to inch closer, avoiding the red flesh strewn in the ground.

 _He was bitten_. Leah rushes. She sinks back as Jacob nears, her black eyes flickering.  _I tried to tell him to move, but he just stood there, and the damn thing got him. I-I didn't mean for this to happen. He—_

 _That's enough, Leah_. Jacob's forelegs tremble as he leans down, oblivious to my presence. He gazes blankly at the body, his heart pattering in his chest.

I snap my teeth, snarling out at him as I move in, pressing my nose to the faint pulse in Grant's throat. Jacob's muzzle lowers, inches from my face, but he doesn't show teeth. I spread my jaws, grazing the tip of a sharp tooth against the sealed bite wound.

 _We gotta open it the damn wound up!_  I roar. I glance at Jacob's russet face, piercing his unwavering dark gaze.  _We have to let the venom out. He won't heal._

Jacob's eyes slant. He watches Grant pant and paw at the ground, motionless. _No. We can't do that._

Bursts of pent rage crack inside me. I release a sharp bark, throwing my weight to knock the stiff russet body away. I twist back, reaching my open jaws for Grant's neck. Before I make contact, Jacob counters, knocking into me before I get the chance. I land in a hard crouch in the ground, snarls ripping through my chest and throat as I start to turn on him.

The weak pressure of another paw against my own stops me.

Grant's eye rolls to gaze at us. His thoughts, dampened with exhaustion, don't make it through the pack link. He presses his paw into my claws, kicking at it. Desperation taints his flared pupils, screaming; it's too late _._

I reach for his throat again anyway, the movement swift, and this time grab his neck before Jacob can react. I tear open a strip of his flesh, leaning away as blood spills into the mud. Grant's kicks slow, his hind legs twitching. Jacob freezes, his breathing stopping. I narrow my gaze, holding my ground as blood dribbles off my chin. The pack doesn't breathe. Silence fills the clearing as an eternal stretch of seconds tick by.

After a long second of nothing, the thundering rhythm of Grant's pulse stutters, and his body consvulses. He tenses, and breath whooshes from his lungs, deflating his sides in the release of his warm breath. His body slowly relaxes into the grass as his lids fall and his tongue lolls from his jaws. He twitches, his foreleg giving a final weak kick into the smeared mud below him.

And he doesn't move again.


	63. Break

_"Just by my left brain,_  
 _Just by the side of the Tin man."_  - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Sixty Three

Break

* * *

A sullen line of shuddering ruffs and slumped shoulders forms at the brink of the forest. I hover, my top half braced against a mound of bracken greens and mud. My paws twitch, coated with thin strips of roots and bark still clinging to the black soil plastered to my fur. Leaning forward, I meet the gaze of the brown wolf across from me for a split second as the line of wolves pulls in and the fog of gentle breaths evaporates.

The towering pair of russet and soft grey appears and halts at the point of the lane, their heads lowering as they close the tips of their teeth around the corners of a soaked tarp. They share a somber look before pushing forward, dragging the layers of black rubber between them. The pack's downcast eyes focus on the shallow track left behind, refusing to acknowledge the mass of a body covered by the heavy covers.

Grant died an animal. A fucking  _animal_ , with a person hidden somewhere behind human eyes carved into a wolf's skull. We aren't even here to bury our tribal brother. We're here to push damp soil over the body of the animal living somewhere inside his bones.

Something about it crawls deep in my skin, a billion tiny pricks and bites of rage. But it's not death—I've long since become immune to its poisonous sting.

It's the bloody bastard who's getting away with it.

Night thrives above our heads, a coat of silent black. Even the skies hold back the drizzle, as if it can sense the loss. The pack's heads hang, bodies drooping. They radiate defeat. Weakness. Pathetic, empty hearts.

But not me. There's not a single thing in the deepest pits of this hell that'll ever be able to stamp a symbol of defeat by my name. Losing isn't even a fucking option.

We  _don't_  lose.

Grant  _won't_  lose.

We are the peak of the food chain. Everything below us kills, wins, and dies. Except for us.

We kill to protect, to preserve life. Anything stealing that life, and any kind of it, dies.

There isn't a damn hair on this body there for any other purpose.

And there's not a damn tooth, claw, or dead wolf that'll ever take that away.

The bundle of wolf and tarp goes down gently into the ground. Jacob and Nicole brace their muddy paws on either edge of the square hole, their heads bent deep inside as they situate the grave. Whimpers spill from the jaws of the runts hanging back, their figures shaken with violent trembles. No head turns. Cuffs of silence lock around every skull, cutting off the pack channel. The regular stream of thoughts is nothing but colors—cold blues, hushed purples, and uneasy smudges of grey. I pin my thoughts in the back of my head, a raging flame of crimson threatening to consume me whole.

Finally, Jacob lifts his broad head, snuffing dirt from his muzzle. He steps back, glancing at Nicole as she sweeps her neck across the ground, pushing the final mound of dirt over the grave. The pair keeps their distance, trying to hide the tremble in their knees. I gaze down from my place on the hill, rumbling low with impatience as the leader's minds join, processing and calculating. Jared takes the chance to jump down from the rise in the ground, loping back to join the rest of the pack without a single word.

Fixing his darkened stare on the back of the pack, Jacob cracks the silence.  _Jackson, where's Daniel?_

I watch a dozen wolves' heads turn simultaneously, all attention zeroing in on the small wolf pressed against the bark of a tree. His bright fur bristles slightly, dark eyes flaring wide. He hacks once, a nervous clear of his throat.  _Daniel. . ._  Jackson trails off, his small voice uneasy. He tries to look away, but he finds my steady stare on the hill above and flinches, burrowing his stare into the moist ground at his paws. I flatten my ears as his heart rate spikes.

Nicole huffs impatiently, dipping her head at the younger wolf.  _Go on_ , she prompts. The voice inside her head is light, and I swear I see a glisten in the icy blues of her eyes.

Jackson's gaze flickers up sheepishly.  _Daniel said he wanted to be alone. He couldn't take seeing this happen to . . . to G-Gra—_

Jacob cuts the stuttering boy off with a short shake of his head, his neck stiffened.  _Someone needs to tell his mother about the . . . accident._

Nicole's grey body presses against Jacob's side as she brushes past him, stepping forward _. I'll go with him, Jacob. You take care of the rest._ She pads across the small space in the trees, nimbly snaking through the frozen bodies of the pack. My eyes follow her movements, studying the gentle reassurance in her muzzle as she coaxes the trembling runt away from the pack, their minds fading out together.

In Nicole's departure, ten expectant pairs of waiting eyes turn on Jacob. He blinks, snuffing and shaking his shaggy coat. He fills the empty space in the numbness of the pack mind with his voice, pushing himself up to stand taller as he begins to speak, thoughts flashing through his head like whizzing bullets. I fix my unblinking stare on the back of his thick ruff, waiting.

 _Jared, take a group around the treaty line. Sam, go with him and split into two groups_. Jacob nods once to himself as the pack breaks apart, suddenly in motion.  _Yeah, that's good. Quil, Embry, stay with me. You too, Seth. And Paul. We have a couple things to go over._

The trees empty, their shadows swallowing the wolves loping through them. I snort, running my gaze across the oblivious wolves gathered around Jacob before sauntering into the trees around them. I hold myself still behind Jacob, my claws working deep in the mud. Quil's muzzle twitches, his body tensing as I near.

_Uh, Jake? You kinda forgot something._

_After that, we— What?_  Jacob's ears pin back, his neck twisting as he looks over his shoulder. A shadow crosses his expression, his mind going blank for half a second. I burn into him, the dark blue of my stare simmering in his pupils. His mind swirls, twirling and shifting as he thinks. My muscles contract, tightening as the seconds tick by. I feel my lip start to peel back, baring fang, while my heart thuds dangerously hard in my ribs.

 _You can go home_ , he decides. With a nod of his large head, he puts his back to me and returns his attention to his patrol.

I don't move at first. I push my paws beneath a layer of soil to prevent slashing them deep into Jacob's flesh. The red flames blaze hotter, melting the thin barrier between self-control and the instinct to take control. Jacob's thoughts continue on, a hum ringing sharp in my ears. I trail my gaze to his throat, narrowing in on the pulse beating rapidly inside his exposed jugular.

Paul's voice cuts through the steam clouding the front of my brain.  _Really, man?_

The spotted wolf shakes his head warily, nudging Paul.  _Don't bother. Jake knows what he's doing._

Paul scoffs, growling lowly and shoving Embry aside.  _What the_ hell  _are you trying to prove? Yeah, I'm talking to you, Black._

The challenge in Paul's tone strikes a nerve. Jacob rumbles warningly, falling into a crouch. He bares the curves of his teeth, skin pulling back. _Can it, Paul. It's time to go._

 _I ain't goin' nowhere!_ Paul fumes, a spark of anger growing in his eyes.  _I'm not gonna move outta this damn spot until this shit stops. God, are you fucking_  blind _? Maybe you wouldn't have to even put any of the pack in the ground if you would open up your ears for two damn seconds and treat your beta like she's worth more than a fucking piss pole!_

Seth whines, taking an uneasy step backwards _. C'mon, guys. We can settle this without any fighting, right? It's okay, no need to let anybody get hurt . . . Please?_

A quiver trembles in Jacob's shoulders, his hackles rising. He doesn't look away, not even for a second. Paul shows the rows of daggers in his jaws, still as stone in his place. The russet wolf pushes his weight forward, his chest heaving with every steaming breath.  _And what gives you the right to think that? What gives you the right to think that any wolf in this pack is treated in any way other than the way they deserve to be?_

Paul advances suddenly, crunching a paw into the ground below him. The shadows pull away from his hulking grey shape. A rippling wave of frustration slams into Jacob's mind, carrying the raised shout of Paul's voice.  _Damn you! Damn you, for letting that fucker make Jordan seem any less than she is! And you know she's worth it! You know it, we all do! Damn you, and the idiotic, heartless bitch that ever made you think she was any less than anybody!_

Jacob's body turns to stone, his blood chilling. There's a heartbeat of silence before he bursts back to life, his thoughts roaring. What  _did you just call her?_

 _Oooh, yeah, you hear me now, Black!_ Paul chortles sourly, his tongue rolling over his dripping teeth as he prowls into the shortening space between himself and the trembling alpha.  _I said it. Idiotic. Heartless. Bi—_!

Just then, the friction of the heated mind cracks my control. I throw my weight, lurching as the barrier cracks and explodes, my ears ringing with the ear-splitting rush of reddened thoughts. It blasts through the pack, bowing every knee and forcing agonized howls out of every throat. My vision swims with smears of bloody scarlet as I teeter, snarling rabid drops of saliva, my neck bent beneath the crushing force of the attack of searing memories that eat away at every part of my mind with the fiery fury of a million hells.

 _"You're too much of_ a mess _. A blind man could see it."_

_"We'll always be here for you."_

_"I'd be right for you! But you don't even know that, because you're his eternal slave! You're enslaved to a leech!"_

_"Whatever. There's no help for you, you sorry bitch."_

The pack mind goes static, zaps and buzzes of pain. Wolves yowl and tumble, writhing in heaps of slashing paws and slack jaws as they burn alive. Through the flames in my eyes, I meet the round shock of Jacob's frozen gaze. He struggles against the strain of the blaze, his front half crumpled to the ground while his hind paws hold up his violently shaking haunches with each round of convulsion. His muzzle slips another inch across the ground, his breath coming in quick, short pants. A heartbeat later, his eyes roll back and the sting of his stare falls away.

A gasp of air punches my lungs as the weight eases. I release a choked growl and retract the storm, packing it away in the corners of my skull. The pack rises slowly, shaken with the tremors of aftershock. Their gleaming eyes roll wildly as reality seeps back into their brains. I glance at Paul, dragging his paws like anchors as he wheezes, his glazed stare set on mine as he pushes past the recovering wolves and staggers toward me. I can only manage a nod before I turn and melt into the forest, gone like a clap of thunder. I stretch my stride into a sprint, the world parting around me as the pack's thoughts blink out.

()()()

I'm past the point of thinking. Past the point of holding back. Past the point of sense and reason.

I'm gone.

I'm red.

I'm fire.

Savage, focused, and deadly.

I fly. The ground and the sky collide, blurred together by the whipping breezes whistling through my fur. My speed has no peak—it climbs, higher and higher and higher as my sprint takes me farther into the dim forest. I rake my senses across every inch of brush and ground. Croaks, caws, and buzzes hum in my ears, while the damp scents of midnight seep into the tingling nerves of my nostrils.

All of it hushes as I tear through brush and bracken, the forest silencing as the feral promise of death hangs heavy in the air.

Paws beat against the leaves behind me. Sparks of foreign thoughts crackle at the edges of my mind, but they never make it through. I race the wind, the hovering shape of Paul a tolerated shadow. Air rushes through my fur, sweeping over my head and along my spine. I listen in to the sound of it, whispering memories flashing behind my lids. Fury buckles deep in my ribs, whipping out a crack of lightning in my veins.

I blast into the clearing, struck with a storm of past scents. The field is torn, scuffed and broken, clots of dirt and grass littering a flat space of torn browns and scattered greens. I curl my lip, my heart thumping as I sharpen my senses, dragging in a shot of scents all at once. My nostrils twitch, grabbing the scent I'm looking for.

_Go left!_

My shoulders jerk as I throw my weight to the side, mud splattering beneath the sudden push of my paws. Paul snaps his teeth with a snarl, thundering right past me. His claws rake the torn dirt, searching for purchase. I push myself harder, lunging into a dead sprint into the opposite side of the forest. The rhythm of footfalls begins behind me once more as Paul hurls himself back in place.

The forest breaks and snaps around my shape, branches slapping my sides, thorns biting my coat, roots ripped clean out by my claws. Fumes of bloodsucker stench swarm in my lungs, infecting every swallow. The gleam of soft moonlight glows silver, dipping through a break in the treetops. My eyes, burning through a haze of red, catch the broad curve of a shoulder as a masculine figure steps into the open space.

Time slows for a heartbeat as a demon moves forward, its milky skin shimmering in the bright light. Its presence casts a shadow along the trees, tall and looming, and its heels crunch a branch. Paul's breathing quickens behind me, catching before the echoing boom of a bark splits the silence. My jaws spread in a feral warning, paws grazing the ground. A pair of gleaming red eyes snap up, reflecting the glint of my open jaws as I hurl myself through the trees, breaking into the clearing of moonlight.

The demon hisses, spitting rage as it spins on its heel and darts into the trees.

I land with a heavy thud, the points of my teeth snapping shut in empty air.

_Fuck!_

Paul tramples the brush, snapping and gnashing his teeth in frustration. I turn over my shoulder, raising myself above him to pierce the hungry light in his eyes. Our gazes connect, and the forest stills. Paul pauses, his dark eyes fogging over as I invade his thoughts. Hot steam puffs out of my nostrils as I blast thought from Paul's head and fill it with a tingling white buzz. Paul's neck rolls, teeth still clicking as his eyes glaze over. His furred shoulders quake as his body weakens beneath my grip.

With a sharp bark, I push off of the ground and tear through the forest, leaping back into the heated pursuit of the demon shooting through the trees ahead. Paul charges after, sticking close to my flank as he thunders on blindly, led like a puppet under my control.

The ground flows like water beneath my paws, each scrape and claw of the sharp sticks and stones a caress on my toughened pads. I soar, my heart thundering in my ears as the blackened forest whips past, silenced. A tree springs in my path. I dodge it with a swift turn, my side grazing the solid trunk. Paul mimics with a sudden jump of his own, following the thoughts echoed in his emptied skull.

In heartbeats, the terrain roughens to bumpy rock and rolls of slopes and ravines, the greens of the forest dulling to greys and browns in the blink of an eye. I push forward without slowing, scanning the wispy brush and scrambled rock surrounding me as my senses fan out, searching. My ears prick, grabbing the sound of feet whispering over layers of crushed bracken.

A snarl spills through my curving lips as I charge the slope ahead, lunging off the bottom and pummeling toward the top. I jerk my head, sending Paul thundering around the incline without me. Flashing through the trees, I leap out on the edge of a ravine, instantly spotting the blur of grey mirroring the steady pattern of my paws in the trees below.

And just ahead of him, a dash of white streaks through the branches in a zigzag. The scent pushes deep into my nostrils, suffocating. I gnash my teeth, spittle flinging from my jaws. My front slams forward as my speed peaks, driving me deeper into uncharted territory.

I speak through Paul's jaws, releasing a crazed round of rabid barks and spits. My eyes hone in on the head of the demon ghosting through the trees as it twists around, the solid expression of determination split with panic. Its lanky legs pump harder as it pivots and flees for the ravine, spooked by the predator closing in.

_Ooh, there we go. Fuck yes!_

Yanking clean out of Paul's mind, I shoot ahead, leaving him to stumble behind, queasy as his own thoughts gush into his thoughts. I throw an order from my mind into his, sharp and quick.

_Up on the slope! Stupid little 'sucker is gonna about to meet a big bad wolf or two._

Paul tosses his head, clearing this thought with a snuff. He blasts ahead, angling his shoulders to charge the ravine after the demon, his body heat flaming with the burn of the chase.  _On it!_

I close my attention, shutting out the crunch of Paul's heavy paws and zeroing in on the rush of wind as the demon nears. The pounding bass of my heart thumps wildly in my ears as the pale shape lands crouched on the ravine, stilling as it lands. I spread my jaws, a howl searing through the wind, thundering in on my prey. The demon's head snaps up, cold reds meeting my own. The demon's irises slant, its jaw clenching. Its masculine figure zips into motion, darting up the nearest tree.

Bark rains in shavings beneath the sharp kicks grating against it as the demon scrambles into the branches. I throw my neck back, gathering my muscles before launching myself off the ground, leaping at the branches without missing a stride. The world ticks in slow motion, the straight edge of the ravine passing beneath me as the winds whisper through my scalp and skin. I suck in a breath just as my rough hands grip a branch with a crack. I plant my feet against the bare trunk of the tree, snapping my gaze up to the thick branches spread above me. The demon hops from branch to branch, intent on escape. I show my teeth, a deadly grin, before stepping on to the bent branch in my hold and beginning my heated climb.

Adrenaline punctures my veins, surging through my bloodstream and shocking my body with wave after wave. Heat shimmers down my spine, my breath exiting my dry mouth in light puffs. The demon's attempts grow more desperate. It shoots panicked glimpses over its shoulder, frantically looking for another branch to find. I laugh, a dry, bitter sort of noise, hearing the impatient grunts and rumbles of the wolf prowling at the base some thirty feet below.

And with a final snarl, my bare feet push off from the crook of the steady branch. I throw out an arm, reaching, before closing my hand around a rock of an ankle. Heat sears audibly on contact, a sheet of dry ice on living flame. The demon cries out, deep like a roar. I yank back, throwing my dead weight into empty air, tumbling and bringing the bastard down with me.

Branches snap and crack, the tree's claws lashing at my eyes and mouth, unable to mark my skin. I open my hand, bracing my shoulders as the ground rises to meet me. I land heavy on the solid form of my prey with a thud, rolling off in three quick spins.

I twist my head through the leaves, my lungs emptying as the glow around the edge of my vision pulses brighter. Paul's massive grey shoulders close in, pinning the demon to the tree. My neck rolls, trapped in the momentum of my final turn, though I catch a final glimpse of pleading crimson circles.

"No! Please, don't do thi—"

The shout cuts off, shattered by the thunder of animalistic snaps and snarls. I slow, my fingers digging into the damp soil before I push up on all fours. The energy of Paul's excitement connects into my mind just as I take in the sight of Paul over  _my kill_ , flesh flying like wood shavings beneath gnashing jaws.

My hot eyes blaze, set on the exposed ruff of Paul's neck.  _MINE!_

Dark eyes dart in my direction. Paul hesitates for a second, his movements ceasing as he absorbs the heat simmering off my gaze like the sun's fiery beams gleaned off pavement. I rush the kill, snapping and growling as Paul reluctantly retreats with a longing glance.

Chuffing, I bring myself down on the marred, lifeless lump of ice. I peel off the demon's cracked, screaming expression, the beautiful echoes of the scream whispering in my beating eardrums. Every part of me buzzes like wire as I bow the body back and split it clean open, exposing rib and bone in a low bow. Clamping down on the throat split with billions of centimeter cracks, I ram my weight against the tree, sending a tremor deep in its trunk.

The demon's body cracks and falls apart, scattering in chunks.

It's not enough to satisfy. The wolf's hunger gnaws in my stomach, though she looks through my frozen gaze with triumph. I inhale, filling my lungs with the sweet scent of victory before tossing my head back and letting the wolf's voice roll into the sky, raising the announcement far into the heavens.

After it falls, I shake my fur clean and step over my kill, turning my attention on Paul. He stands perked a good distance away, his muzzle cracked in a cocky grin.  _Damn. Turned that thing to burger._

I rumble low and deep, my eyes slanting as my lips turn upward.  _Torch that bastard._

Paul doesn't question. He dips his head to tug the lighter free with his teeth, turning away to draw himself onto two legs. He makes quick work, muttering smug boasts to himself as he piles the white hunks of demon into a pile. He crouches, hitching his cutoffs into place on his hips before rolling his thumb over the lighter with a click. The orange light flickers in my pupils as it catches, setting the kill ablaze.

I stick around for a few breaths, just long enough to watch Paul step back and sling a bent arm over his nose to block out the stench of smoldering bloodsucker and the purple fumes to start to swirl into the silent sky above. As another breeze stirs, I slip into the shadows, disappearing into another world like the black dust of the demon's remains.

*Meanwhile*

Winds scream and howl over the snowy mountaintops, carrying blasts of icy air and pounding spurts of heavy snowfall. The dark sky above rages, burying the world in its furious storm. Far, far below, a tent shudders beneath the batters of precipitation, nearly torn apart by each gust of wind.

Edward holds his breath against the white-hot burn branded in his throat. He reaches across the rough fibers of the tent's floor, picking up the last sleeping bag available. A shadow crosses his expression as he gazes helplessly at the human girl shivering in a cocoon of blankets in front of him.

She's right. She always has been right. Victoria's taken her chance, and nearly killed  _her_ —nearly killed the only light in Edward's eternal hell and crushed him right here in this very clearing. Edward has been given the chance to destroy the threat and free them of their worries.

But it went to waste.

And now there's the possibility that the threat of Victoria will return.

Edward burns, remembering. A dash of fiery hair appearing out of thin air; a boy not much older than him, closing in, driven to kill him through the lies of false love. A feline-like dance of swipes and hisses and cracks. The stream of blood, wet, thick and scarlet through the spaces of pale fingers. The thirst shattering focus and leading to pull the trigger of a secondary instinct; the instinct to flee. Edward, standing alone in the clearing, a strip of his shirt wrapped securely around Bella's wound.

The relief—Bella has survived.

The dread—so has the threat that will come back, again and again and again, until she doesn't.

And after that, a storm to roll in out of nowhere and bury the distraught pair in harsh weather and the crushing knowledge of what could have been.

Edward's long, white fingers gingerly tuck the sleeping bag around Bella's collar. Her trembles shudder through the bundle around her, vibrating against his fingertips. Edward breathes in sharply, his nostrils flaring, and quickly darts into his place in the far corner of the tent.

Edward sinks into a crouch and braces his arms against the side of the tent, pushing them out as they press in closer, threatening to collapse. He studies the convulsing shape of Bella lost in the mountain of blankets, wincing internally at each shudder following her shallow breaths. Her brown gaze holds his for a long moment before her mouth opens, releasing a precious breath of warmth.

"V-Vic . . . Victoria," Bella chatters.

Edward's expression tightens. It's painful enough to watch her suffer, but to worry her further. . . He can't allow himself to think like that. She's so vulnerable—the wrong words could shatter her. He swallows thickly, composing himself before he speaks to her, his words smooth as glass.

"She's dead, Bella." Edward's mouth dries around the lie rolling effortlessly off his tongue. "The wolves got her."

Bella's shoulders relax into her bundle. Edward's neck loosens ever so slightly, his spine straightening as the weight of worry evaporates. It's wrong, but necessary. Her condition is deteriorating rapidly, and the risk of added stress could break her. Edward glances toward the exit, once again considering flight, but quickly shakes off the thought. The cold will grab her the second they hit the slopes.

In the silence, Edward watches her, feeling himself slowly cracking beneath the pressure of his love's pain. The rough surface of the tent wraps over his skin, fitting to his shape. A tremor rocks through Bella's body. Her eyes squeeze shut before snapping open again, lit with a near panic.

Bella slips a quivering hand free, grabbing the edge of the sleeping bag. It takes a few tries, but she manages to yank it away from her chin, giving her room to speak. "J-J-Jake?"

Sighing lightly, Edward reaches out to wrap the sleeping bags around her again. Icy air blasts through the sides of the tent, the unsteady poles creaking against its strength. Edward's jaw clenches as Bella shudders violently, her teeth clenching.

"He's fine, Bella. If you value any part of my sanity. . . Please rest."

Stubborn even while slowly turning to ice, Bella's fingers work the edge of the sleeping bag again. Edward's chest tightens as she wiggles her mouth through, gasping against the cold. Her eyes settle into him as she meets his gaze, her words striking his heart.

"I w-w-wou-wouldn't b-be like th-this if y-you would ch-ch-change m-me."

Edward pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. He leans back on his heels, hunched below the tent's ceiling. "Bella. . ."

"P-Please. . . Th-There's n-nothing left, Ed-Edward."

Edward's darkening eyes flicker to the tent entrance. He scowls as he shifts his body over to hover over the shuddering shape of Bella, his body shielding the wind away from her. He reaches out to her, the pads of his fingers resting on the side of her cheek. "You don't want to be what I am," he whispers. The words come hushed, weighted with pained honesty.

Bella frowns, her body stiff as a board. She meets Edward's topaz stare, small tears swelling on the brims of her eyes. "P-Plea-Please?"

Edward studies Bella's bluing lips, stricken with cold. So fragile. Images attack his mind—Victoria's scarlet eyes, wild and hungry, watching from a perch in the branches just outside the tent. The Volturi, black cloaks and glittering teeth, swarming around Bella, helpless as powdery hands snatch her neck and snap it clean with a single twist. His Bella, lowered into the grave, abandoning him in his eternal hell. He snaps his eyes shut for the briefest second as the strongest of the pictures stretch behind his closed lids.

Bella and him, together, hand in hand. Bella, the same but different—stronger, brighter, and unstoppable. Edward and his Bella, safe and united in their forever at last, with the haunting threat of Bella's mortality no longer looming over their shoulders.

Closing his eyes, Edward exhales again. An anchor settles in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down with early regret. He swallows against the venom pooling around his tongue before opening his eyes and meeting Bella's dulling stare. "Fine. I will—I'll change you. But I need you to promise me one thing."

Edward shifts closer, hovering over her. Bloodlust rakes its blazing claws down the sides of his throat as he leans in, pressing his nose in the crook of her jaw. He inhales, deep and slow, before speaking soft words.

"Promise me that after you change, you'll stay with me. Forever."

A small smile curves Bella's chapped, cracked lips. Her pulse races beneath the pressure of Edward's touch. "F-Fore-ever," she murmurs.

Edward's throat thickens. "I love you, Bella Swan."

The whisper of Edward's words disappear, swept into a roaring wind. His eyes fall shut, his hand a tender comfort on the nape of Bella's neck. His lips spread over his teeth, and with a delicate care, he commits the strongest of all sins.

His teeth slide through Bella's neck like butter, latching deep in fragile flesh. A blush of warmth blooms on the pale skin caught in his jaws, and his vision wavers. A burst of sweet heaven coats his tongue and throat as he releases his poison, his venom clashing with the scarlet flooding his mouth. Edward's throat bobs, his hand pressing hard into the back of Bella's skull as crimson honey flourishes down his throat and spreads through him, heating every nerve in his dead body.

In a flash, reality strikes him. Edward's eyes snap open, his breathing catching as he throws himself into the side of the tent. His hands shoot up to catch the sides as they waver. After a heartbeat, Edward shifts, running his tongue over his lips to catch stray drops of scarlet.

_Bella's blood._

Edward's chest throbs. His eyes gravitate toward the limp body tangled in the sleeping bags, but he can't bring himself to look. With each passing moment, the sensation of floating grows stronger beneath his feet, as if he has left his body and has been transported to another world full of inescapable regret. Only the pulsing of his throat, slick with the lingering flavor of Bella's crimson treasure, ties him to reality. Edward sucks in a deep breath through his teeth, dragging the dry, flat taste of the wintery air into his lungs, mixed in with the vile stench of something too strong to be brushed off.

Edward's head twists to the entrance of the tent. It flaps in the wind, the zipper torn, seeming to have been captured in the rough winds. Edward's senses heighten, fanning out across the clearing. He freezes, becoming a crouched statue as thoughts stricken with the weight of a dozen pounds of grief shock his thoughts.

In a sudden movement, Edward breezes through the flap, positioning himself outside the tent. His gaze scans the dark line of the trees. It isn't long before his searching stare lands on a watchful glittering glare.

The wolf, a cowering, brown little thing, stands hesitant, its head lowered as it peers through a tangle of snow-stripped twigs. Its nostrils twitch, drawing in the flavors of the winds with a short whistle. Edward tenses, instinctually settling into a defensive crouch. A hiss spits through his lips, warning. The wolf's lips twitch, its gaze hardening as it ponders, but there's no time to react. In a heartbeat, the wolf flags its ears and is gone in a kickback of clumsy paws and crushed brush, disappearing like the final sliver of amber in Edward's blackened eyes.

In the wolf's departure, the roar of the winds mutes. Edward's lungs close as an agonized scream shatters the last thread of sanity dangling in Edward's grasp. Bella's pleads and cries echo the scream, ripping through his skin and piercing his soul. Edward pushes a hand through his rusty hair, his tongue thick and fuzzy with the lingering taste of Bella coating his tongue.

With a clench of his jaw and a final darting glance over his taut shoulders, Edward ducks back into the tent to suffer through the thousand fiery hells with his mate. Even in the shelter of the tent, the warning howl rising over the trees in the depths of the dense forest sing above the pleading shouts, breaking Edward to pieces.


	64. The Hushed Hunter

_"I just heard the world, is breaking down into bits again._   _Tell me what am I to do?"_  - O.A.R

* * *

Chapter Sixty Four

The Hushed Hunter

* * *

*Olympic Mountain Range*

Rosalie Hale isn't one to wander in the middle of snowstorms without good reason.

The raging batter of snow packs in every crack of an old tree somehow still standing at the top of a slope, the bitter cold eating the bark away to a dull grey. The twisted, tangled mess of branches stretch desperately toward the sky, straining to reach a beam of sunlight that could never break the barricade of clouds bunched together in an endless parade above. The ugly thing has long since reached the end of its days.

No wandering eyes would ever catch the striking presence of a visitor perched in the secluded heights, especially in the climax of the howling winds and heavy bouts of snow. The timing is perfect, and the sacrifice of smooth blonde curls will be well worth it.

Silent scarlet eyes wander, peering through the space of parting sticks. The opening provides a perfect view of the small clearing below. Two large, masculine shapes stand in the middle, straight and steady, unaffected by the weather's wrath. They speak in whispers too soft to ever touch the ears of another. With a muted hiss of frustration, Rosalie leans forward, calculating before lifting a slender leg and carefully maneuvering it over the curve of a bent, peeling branch. Just as her calf stretch over the bark, she freezes. Her eyes widen, her head snapping up.

A wail shatters the hush. Rosalie's throat dries as her nostrils flex around the scent of blood, steamed with the erratic pulse fueled by the race of venom through veins. Her pupils dilate, blacking her irises to a deep shade of onyx. Granite fingers curl into claws, splitting deep cracks in the branches. With acquired control, Rosalie manages to force herself to exhale, shooting the burn back out in a whistle. She collects herself, lowering herself in the branches as she casts a wary glimpse across the clearing.

Nothing seems to have taken any notice of the extra attention. Yet.

The men break apart, turning their heads toward a battered old tent thrown up on the face of the mountain slope. Murmurs smooth as velvet spill from quiet lips inside the paper-thin walls, soothing. The agonized cries fade out to whimpers as the words morph into the gentle flow of Edward's lullaby.

The sound of it strikes a flurry of memories, sharpened with an icy clarity. Rosalie stiffens, zeroing in the black head of hair higher up than the mess of honey. Stones fall into her stomach as a deep voice speaks out, a familiar groaning complaint.

"Jesus, this is so damn boring. We've been out here for _hours!_ "

"All in good time, Emmett," Jasper mutters. "Carlisle's already taken back the machines. The transformation is nearly complete."

"Yeah?" The broad-shouldered man doesn't turn around. His arms lift as he cracks his knuckles. "Well, it sure as hell isn't fast enough for me. At least you could go have some fun if you wanted to, 'cause your woman's at least around." He snorts. "Wouldn't know, since she's got her head too deep in those blind visions."

A huff sounds from the trees. Rosalie presses against the trunk as a streak of spiked hair and pulsing energy flits across the snow to take her place at Jasper's side. Her golden eyes roll as she watches the larger man fold his arms tight to his chest. "You're absolutely  _hilarious_."

"Don't mind him, darlin'." Jasper winds his arms around Alice's petite waist. "He doesn't handle loneliness very well."

A boom echoes against the rocky mountainside. Rosalie's chest constricts, her lips curving over the cruel edges of pristine whites. The sound strikes a bitter chord deep within her, bringing up unwanted memories. She becomes motionless in her place in the tree, a watchful shadow.

"Ha! _Lonely_." The chuckles ease as the man's head turns enough to bring the side of a dimpled grin into view. "Jordan's gonna come back to me. We don't have to be attached at the hip all the time. A man's gotta have some fresh air to breathe before it's time to get right back to business." The dimples pop again, defined with the flash of a smug grin.

Jasper's jaw becomes taut, his expression shadowed. "I'm sure you will be just as proud when the pack finds out about Edward's decision. Especially when your mate is at the lead of the dozen wolves on their way to tear all of us to bits and pieces."

"Jasper, please." Alice shakes her head, worry crossing her features. She places a small hand on Jasper's chest, waiting for his narrowed eyes to flicker down into hers. "Not now."

"He will have to come to face the truth sooner or later." Jasper's mouth twitches into a disgusted curve as he looks up at the sideways view of Emmett's face. "She will kill us. And what do you think you can do to stop her?"

"She won't."

Alice sighs quietly, but Jasper cocks a brow, interest flashing in his gaze at the flat seriousness in his brother's tone. "And what happens when you're wrong? What happens when you finally realize that the wolf you've been playing with is a savage animal without a brain in its whole damn body? What happens when it's the one to rip your family to shreds right before your eyes? What  _then_ , Emmett?"

Rosalie braces herself, her fingers smooth on the branch. She doesn't breathe, focusing in with anticipation. Finally— _finally_ —the large man turns, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The sight of his face, tightened with a sort of unfamiliar ferocity, doesn't match any of those stored in the banished clutter of memories. Rosalie crouches, her eyes unblinking as the golden blaze of the man's gaze wanders up the trunk of the tree. For the briefest moment, she anticipates his reaction, waiting to be found. Her fingers itch as she fumes.

But he doesn't notice her. Instead, the man stares deeply into the forest. He takes a step forward, away from the huddle of Alice and Jasper. When he speaks, his words are slow and certain. "I promised to fix her. Say what you want, but nothing you can ever tell me will change my mind. If she fights, I'll fight harder just to keep her head straight. I'm gonna heal her and make it all better." His expression hardens. "We're all monsters, but Jordan's sure I can be the best of us. Jordan found me when she was lost and gave herself to me. So, I'm gonna give her all I can to make things right again. I promised her that."

An eerie hush falls. Jasper's expression twists as if struck with something strange—a foreign feeling he's never tasted before. But then Alice disrupts the focus with a grimace, gripping Jasper's shirt as another scream blasts them all back into reality. Rosalie blinks, glancing down as Emmett shakes his head and darts in her direction, his body tensed and his strides confident as he heads towards the trees. Rosalie shifts, gazing longingly as he passes beneath her. Her eyes twitch with false images of her hand grabbing the strong curve of his shoulder. She hovers, watching him move straight out from underneath her before breaking into a dead sprint, gone in the breath of a flurry.

Rosalie clenches her trembling hand, snarling at her stupidity. It's worthless to linger on such shallow thoughts. It's a mistake to have even come. Rosalie exhales, casting a final burning glare at the tent behind her before leaving the familiar strangers, soon to be nothing but forgotten memories, behind her.

After all, there's business to tend to, and Rosalie Hale isn't one to be late.


	65. Striking the Spark

[ **A/N** : This chapter picks up a few hours after Jordan and Paul's vampire hunt in sixty three.]

_"Stop right there_ _I've  
Got a hole inside my chest."_ - Imagine Dragons.

* * *

Chapter Sixty Five

Striking the Spark

* * *

In the seclusion of a shadowed patch of woods, I change.

The whir of microscopic wings and the whisper of paws scurrying through the leaves touch my ears, flowing through my brain in a twisted tangle of scents and images. The midnight sky scowls down at me through the arcs of branches. Hot, wet breezes roll in, pressing into my naked skin. Everything is quiet.

I grit my teeth. A tremor rocks my core, tearing into my bones and shooting to the tips of my fingers, curled deep in the wet mess of leaves and mud. My shoulders curve, my body bending in an attempt to hang onto my human skin for a few minutes longer.

_Not now, damn it._

I don't know where the hell I am, but it's still dark. The ocean's brine wafts on the breeze, heavy and thick, but the trees tower high above my head, too close to be anything found near La Push. Their long branches rustle, caught in the wind. I exhale and contract my muscles, falling into a sitting position. Pebbles tumble from my palm, broken loose by the sudden movement. Nothing else stirs.

A jolt strikes my center. I'm on my feet in a flash, my teeth bared and my legs carrying me into the open. My eyes skim through the flat expanse of blackened forest as I reach for the string on my ankle, shaking my clothing loose before tugging it over my skin in a few rough yanks. A shimmer hovers above my head, frying the air.

The wind charges, blasting my nostrils with a potent poison. A black tumble of hair whips over my shoulders, thrown back by the air's scream. I feel the dilating of my pupils as the shadow of a hunter's focus clouds my expression.

_He's here._

It's him. The scent drawn through my nostrils triggers a flutter, then a gush of images behind my lids. It's the face I've been waiting for, strong and carved, matched to the sugary sweetness carried on the breeze. I put no name to the golden-eyed man, but there's something about him.

Something that makes me want him.

I follow the wind. It guides me to a border made up of a steady flow of churning, bubbling water. It's glass in motion. The sky lives under the surface, caught in the race of the currents. I step toward it, approaching, until I see a pair of dark blues glaring back at me.

They're hard. Unforgiving. Ruthless. Ready. Trapped in the hard lines of a shadowed face, are a hunter's eyes.

My mind scatters. Instinct shatters. Memory tips gravity, slamming it on my shoulders. My lungs bow, crushed to my ribs. The air becomes gritty, hot. Too hot.

Standing there, a blank statue, I'm captured by the blaze of desire. I'm needing cold.

Needing numb.

Needing him.

I lift my gaze across the stretch of current. Swirls of sweetness touch my nostrils. I pull them in and shove them in my lungs. I push forward, sloshing through the muddy river. The water reaches my knees. Currents tug at my legs, and the cold stings, like a billion tiny needles.

But it's not enough.

Red sears behind my lids. I hear screams—my ears ring with them. Hell rages in my skull, housing a demon unsatisfied in her cage. She's breaking loose, struggling in her chains. I yank them tighter, but fire flashes in my nerves. I crack, my feet slipping on the slick mud of the bank.

" _No!_ "

I puff steam through my jaws, throwing out my stride. The trees burst, raining clouds of dust as I pass. The green forest wobbles, uneasy, falling to pieces. I shake my head, sharp enough to pop something in the back of my neck. I'm past the point of feeling it. I push, harder and harder, my bare feet pounding the ground. My steps are loud, but the furious howls searing through my skull are louder. My veins ignite, blazing, hot blood bubbling beneath the surface. This skin is butter on my bones.

But I hang on, tightening my grip as I blast into the forest.

The deeper I push, the more the world changes.

The ocean's brine vanishes. A damp, woodsy scent filters through my lungs, lifeless; empty.

The jade leaves and thick beds of moss sink into brittle brush, becoming massive tangles of bramble torn from my path by slashing hands. They shake hard, a copper blur stretched out before me.

The scuffle and skitter of life silences. The flaming world holds its breath, muted other than the thuds of my footfalls and the thunder of my heart slamming frantically against my ribs.

I grind my teeth. Fire rises and falls in long strokes along my spine. My body twists, jerks, and bends, but I don't falter. My steady stride grows longer, harder, faster. The burn chases me, biting my heels. If it catches me, it'll grab the monster and turn me inside out.

My nostrils expand, drawing in the smells of the forest. The scent strengthens, coating my throat with a chilled glaze. My core tightens. A spasm rocks my muscles as the wolf expands, shuddering, on the verge of escape.

And then my toes squish into wet, cold mud. I jerk to an abrupt stop, hooking my curled fingers into the gritty bark of a dry tree. I swallow my breath back, staring into the sudden presence of a small clearing.

He's here.

Across the clearing, the source of the scent stands alone. His back is bare, bone white in the dim light. Muscle flexes, rippling through his body as he swings his arm. He releases a rock from his fingers, sending it whizzing into a tree. It nicks the surface before bouncing back, only to be caught in the tips of his fingers. He holds it gently, his arm tightened. He knows one twitch could crush it, but the rock remains in one piece between his fingers. The man turns it over in his hand before winding up again, oblivious.

As I watch, I melt. Layers of flame peel away, shedding off me. The quaking tremors retreat, and I'm left settled in my skin. I'm not burning flesh over a wolf's skeleton. I'm human.

I'm Jordan Uley.

My pulse takes flight in my chest, racing a different tempo. I feel my lips turn up on the edges as I study the broad, sturdy build of the shirtless man only yards away. The bulk of him seems to fill the clearing— No, that's not it. The whole damn world is _him_ , sealed shut in the corners. Everything about this man—from the relaxed curve of his shoulders to the throaty chuckle of amusement made when the rock ricochets into his waiting palm—swarms into the space until there's nothing else left.

Until hell is foreign and suddenly, my world is Emmett and me, and nothing else exists.

The internal storm raging in my skull hushes. A breeze blows light whispers across my skin, refilling my lungs with Emmett's scent. I take a steady step forward, my gaze locked on the smooth black hair on the back of Emmett's head. Reaching down, I open my fingers and carefully pull a stone free from the thin tangle of grass around my bare feet. I pause, holding in the warmth of my breath. Emmett tilts his head, going still. He listens, quiet for a moment before he brings his arm back and chucks his rock at another tree.

It never hits its target. Another stone cuts into the rock's path, knocking it out of the air with a chink.

I straighten as Emmett whips around. I meet the bright, warm golden pools, and my world tips upside down. Everything shines, glowing bright as Emmett strikes me with a dimpled grin. He doesn't comment, despite the light seeping into the sky during what is supposed to be a midnight meeting. Emmett doesn't bother with questions—somehow, he understands.

Holding his gaze, a smile forms on my lips. I rub my fingers to my collar, blowing out imaginary smoke. Emmett chuckles, flashing his teeth in a wide grin.

"Nice aim," he comments. He steps towards me, slowly closing the distance between us with weightless steps.

I hold the steady circles of golden in my gaze as my feet press into the cool grass, bringing me closer to my only relief, now just a few steps in reach. "I'm only looking for a catch."

Emmett's lips turn up as he takes the final step. Our fingers touch, and in that very instant, I'm free. The last few smoldering layers of heat burst, cracked and shattered. I'm washed with a cool rush. Emmett beams, reflecting my expression in the bright circles of his eyes.

I see Jordan Uley in his gaze, filling every inch of yellow.

But carved into her face are eyes of a wolf, hot and intent behind the mask.

Emmett doesn't react to that. If he notices, he doesn't have any reason to satisfy the hunter's challenging stare.

Cold fingers curl around my heated palm, gentle and soft as satin. "Well, damn. Looks like you got me."

Something about his words brings a laugh to my lips. I release it under my breath while gravity pulls me into his embrace. "If you're scared, you can always run away."

Emmett's grin widens. He snorts, and I find back pressed against the thick bark of a tree. He braces his arms at my shoulders, his mouth curled in a smirk as he presses a kiss to my jaw. "You're on my turf now, babe. I do the ass kicking here."

"Mmm." I twist free of his grip, flashing a smile as he turns. His hands jump out to catch me, only to close around empty air. I crouch in the crook of a branch above him, gripping the mossy bark as I hover. "I would say I'm not impressed, but I'd rather let you down easy." My gaze flickers to the ground below, watching him brace his feet to lunge. "It's a hard fall."

Turning, Emmett relaxes against the trunk of the tree. He tips his head back, staring into the branches as he folds his arms across his broad chest. His eyes slant, though his smirk has yet to fade. "Go on with it then. Nothing will take that ring off your finger anyway." Smugness radiates off every inch of him, confident and strong.

"Could you handle it?" I flash into a branch higher up, my fingers wrapped tight around the damp surface. Black hair tumbles over my shoulder, shadowing my face. I peer around the trunk down at him, his eyes two specks of color in the dull glow of light. "I'd give you all of me, take every last piece. But it would kill you."

The buzz of the forest rises in volume in the space of Emmett's reply. His brows scrunch ever so slightly, but he laughs through it, a deep bass that spreads from my ears to my toes. In a streak of white, he hurls himself into the branch beneath me, leaning up to push a cold hand through my hair, forcing it over my neck to free my face. His teeth gleam as his dimples pop.

"I'll take it. All of it," he whispers. "I'll make it so damn beautiful, it'll be like there's never been a day you didn't shine."

Suddenly, there's only inches between our faces. His breath mixes with mine, sweet and fresh. I close my eyes, my mouth brushing against his, searching for a kiss. When I part my lids, I'm staring into the silver clearing beyond the curve of Emmett's shoulder. I catch a glimpse of the shadows cast across the ground, cutting through the light. The towering trees shudder, beckoning.

Icy lips find my ear. "I love you, Jordan."

I fall back into reality, the outside world blinking out. I turn my head to meet Emmett's gaze, slowly, almost carefully. He locks his arms around my waist, grounding me. The ties around my heart bind, setting me back to the ground again. My mind whirls, rearranging as I push words through my lips.

"It'll be worth it all, someday," I say. The words come out firmly, even though my heart's beating backwards in my chest everything's fuzzy around the corners.

Emmett cracks a huge smile. We step down together, landing against the ground as one. I press into the bark of the tree, my bare skin hot and exposed. Emmett's hands relax, skimming up my ribcage while my fingers clench around the waistband of his jeans, curling somewhere behind his back. I watch his eyes fall shut and his head lean in. I glance away at the last minute, expelling a hot breath through flared nostrils.

"Mmm. What is this?" A smirk inches its way across my mouth as I slip away from him with a deliberate strut in my step. "You think I'm an easy catch, do you?"

A deep chuckle works its way through Emmett's chest. A chill jolts my spine as Emmett's arms wrap tight around me. His lips barely move as he speaks. "This is all for free." He leans in closer, rubbing his cheek against my own as his mouth finds my throat. I tense, turning to stone for a moment before he turns his head and presses a kiss to my searing skin. He holds it for a second before slowly pulling back slightly, his breath in my ear.

Emmett's eyes crack open, tinted a fierce shade of hazel. "This is just to feel."

I hear the want—it's clear in the husky edge to his words. I see it burning in his eyes, bright and searing. I scent it, saturating the air in a buzz, as I move toward him, our bodies drawn together like magnets. And finally, I taste it as I take his kiss, strong and real in my mouth.

The feeling shoots sparks through my bones. I catch it, letting it thrive. His kiss roughens, fed by a slow burn that never rises. The world starts to fold away again, seemingly insignificant.

Except for one last little ring, somewhere far away. It's nothing at first, until it grows, louder and louder by the second. The faint ring hits my ears and changes, the sound clear as it crashes through my eardrums.

An alarm howl carries over the trees in the far distance, snatching the chains of loyalty and constricting them in around my middle, suffocating.

_Shit._

A second yank tears me from the kiss. My head rolls against the bark, turning toward the forest. The shadows reach for me, stretching across the clearing as the howl echoes in the winds. I glance back at Emmett, my teeth bared and grinding audibly. His expression dims, and there's nothing like the panic in his eyes that strikes like lightning. He shakes his head quickly, not blinking as he breathes one word.

" _No_."

Emmett catches my lips again. This kiss is different. It's a long, slow persuasion that slices the chains in half and reattaches them to himself, drawing me in. I shut my eyes, greeted by an exploding series of flashes of color, tinted red with desire. Emmett drops his hands to my lower back, holding me to him as we fall.

We crash into the grass with a thud. I hold myself over him, trapped like glue. I'm breathing ice through his lips as our mouths carry us further down a narrow path, the end a deep tumble with no other escape.

Oranges and yellows join the volcano of color behind my lids the same time billions of tiny hummingbirds take flight beneath my ribcage, heading south as winter closes in. Clothes shred like paper, ripping just as easily while the pieces litter the ground around us.

My muscles shiver with anticipation as I grab a low-bent branch and pull myself above Emmett, pinning him with my weight. His shoulders ram into the roots while his head hits the curve of the trunk. His hands wander, exploring territory otherwise forbidden by the fabric of clothing. My body reacts where I'm numb, drunk by the ice of the breath and the short sting of his melting venom on my tongue.

One movement or another strikes a nerve. Emmett growls quietly against my lips, twisting. I smack into the grass, sprawled flat as he takes dominance, pinning me with his hips and the grip of his steady hands. His naked chest becomes a barrier, blocking out the rest of the world as he closes in.

It hurts so fucking good.

Everything that's once been wrong morphs, twists, and becomes right. Emmett creates a tender sort of space on Earth where it's just the two of us, together, and the steady rhythm that follows my even pulse beating in every inch of my body. Kisses touch, skin rubs, limbs tangle, and our bodies press, moving forever closer.

This isn't savage.

I try to keep him rough with me, but he smothers each attempt with the gentle pressure of his mouth against mine. My eyes fall shut, forgetting the blaze of lust as the burn of light from my heart swallows me whole. Emmett folds away reality, washing out every ache and burn until there's nothing left but a slow, climbing bliss and nothing left to do but hold on as we drive each other farther into oblivion.

My throat hums, but I swallow my breath and close everything inside, letting it creep into my veins and mute the fire. Emmett's fingers lace through mine somewhere high above my head. Through the slits in my vision, I see his expression soften above mine. A live wire zaps, and our pace picks up as oblivion peaks and snaps in the same moment.

We fall together.

Every ounce of air leaves my lungs in a rush. Emmett encases me, keeping me with him. Our breath clashes, gentle warmth and a sweet chill mixing while we soar. Every nerve tingles, rising into my stomach as my heart flies. The storm in my skull quiets into soft colors; fireworks breaking, cracking and sizzling behind my lids. My body makes a final reaction while my hands race over satin skin and dive through the smooth black cut of Emmett's hair. My head rolls into the grass as Emmett shifts to slide into place in the grass beside me, draping his body around mine like a blanket; a shield from everything else.

And then it's over.

I face the sky, settling my body into the ground. Instinct already starts to scream, driving me towards streets and lights somewhere far, far behind me. Emmett's arms carefully circle my waist and pull me across an inch of grass, holding me flat to his stone torso. My lips turn into a smile as he rests his head against my shoulder, listening to the thump of my heartbeat.

I breathe. The intake of air refreshes my system, bringing me down from the oblivion. I glance at Emmett, searching for a light gaze that's been waiting for mine.

He's even sexier now than five minutes ago, lying with me wearing nothing but his dimples. Nothing can wipe the fool's grin off his face for a damn second anymore. The smug satisfaction in his honey eyes gleam hot like passion, and I think I glow right back at him as he directions his smile right at me; it's sunshine chasing shadows.

Emmett's lips move, though his voice floats slowly into my mind as the words process through and carve into my brain, deep enough that I know they have to be true. I inhale again, letting the murmur of his voice roll through again, clear and real.

"I'm madly in love, and it's as real as anything will ever be."

I fix my gaze on his face, searching for any hidden corners of his expression. There's nothing there but a shallow layer of glass reflecting back at me, bright and certain. I breathe heavier, the antidote of his words flashing through my system, charging me with a new type of numb that I've never felt—not like this.

My heart skips in my chest as my lips peel back to expose a grin that's never been more real. "Me too," I whisper. I lean my forehead against his, holding on to the moment while my hands relax against the back of his neck. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

()()()

A jitter of activity pries open my thoughts. The pack link hums, each mind a frenzy of question and anger. I charge through the forest, the wind tearing through my coat. The damp scramble of brush and dirt becomes pebbles and wet sand beneath my paws just as quickly as salty ocean air drowns out the damp, earthy scent of the forest. There's seconds between the transition from forest to the abandoned construction site outside Third Beach—I blink and the company of the trees becomes a pacing mass of wolves churning up the sand beneath heavy paws.

Nicole's head snaps up from the mound of a hill, a snarl ready on her lips as her icy gaze lands on mine.  _Where the hell have_  you  _been?_

The russet shape of Jacob steps in beside her, his lip curled and his dark eyes shining with a harsh light of irritation.  _We don't have all damn day to wait on you to get the hell over here._

I slow to a trot, shouldering through the pacing wolves. They part with short glances and grumbles as I step in place below the mound that's become Jacob and Nicole's throne, setting into my own rhythm. Stares burn in the back of my neck as my mind pulls together before breaking through and spilling into the pack link. I counter the alpha's demands with a re-run of Emmett's bare body as we head our opposite ways into the forest, making sure to add in an extra special angle view for Jacob's enjoyment.

A shudder ripples through the pack. All the other questions disappear, blinking out from mind after mind with a hack or whimper.

The constant motion continues. I glance from color to color, searching each brown stare for any sign of reason. They all focus straight ahead, some pissed as hell, others looking like they're about to piss a whole damn lake. Fur clings to skin; damp and sandy from the constant kick and churn of sand beneath busy paws. I stride from one end of the hill to the other, keeping fair distance, until a runt stumbles into my path, brushing against my side. He jerks away from me, jolted as if the feeling stings.

There's no time to react. A moment later, the air simmers, and two new minds connect with the pack. Jacob and Nicole freeze, their heads snapping up, and the rest of the pack mirrors the motion a half-second later. I slow to a stop, watching as the brown form of Jared bounds through a stack of wood, his eyes widened and his breath coming fast and hard through his muzzle. Daniel stumbles in at his flanks, his shoulders trembling and his eyes stricken with shock. He teeters, uneasy on his paws.

Jacob moves to the peak of the hill, leaning as far forward as he can without toppling over the edge. He studies the little wolf intently with forced patience. Nicole moves onto the pads of her front paws, anxious. I flatten my ears and show the points of my sharpest teeth, bristled with the spark lit by their presence.

Jared snuffs, his gaze flickering across the statues of the wolves staring down on the shuddering runt, his fur light enough to blend him with the brown of the sand. Jared bows his head and nudges him toward the craning necks of the alphas, pushing him right beneath their stares. I shift my weight, crouching in preparation.

Daniel cowers, quivering in his coat as he stands with his belly almost brushing the ground. He slowly tips his head back to look up at the faces of Nicole and Jacob, only to flinch away again. He drops his head to his paws with a whimper, his neck stiff with suppressed shakes.

Nicole shifts her weight back on her hind legs, her voice breaking the mental silence.  _Go on. Show us what you saw, Daniel._

Hesitation runs through Daniel's thoughts, disappearing as quickly as it comes. He sucks in a deep breath through his nostrils, nodding shortly. His eyes close, his mind trembling before a burst of images blocks out the pack's vision, rising tension into the air as he rolls through images in fast-forward for the whole pack to see.

_An expanse of cold, lonely forest, brittle and hushed in the coming of a storm._

_Pain, and lots of it. The regret of missing the burial of a fallen friend that won't ever wake back up again._

_The howl of winds screaming above the trees._

_A jolt of shock when the trees start to thin, and it's clear the shouts are real._

_Clutters of brush nudged aside, the bite of thorns like a brush of a feather beneath the distraction of curiosity._

_Finally, the stain of red on Edward Cullen's lips as he stands stiff and infuriated outside a tent, with a tortured, twisting shape of Bella Swan tangled in a mountain of blankets visible through the shuddering flap of the tent's entrance._

For a heartbeat, the pack's mind goes dead.

In another, we erupt in a storm of howls, slashing paws, and the spit-flying gnash of jaws. Fury charges veins, hate clouds reason, and instinct drives each and every wolf into a sudden frenzy, eyes rolling and teeth snapping, looking for the nearest patch of flesh to tear into.

Even the runt in all his shame in the sand below the alphas rises and spits out his own disgusted snarl, shaking the sand from his coat and gathering himself in a matter of seconds.

Thoughts start to fly as minds piece together.

_That was Bella Swan! The bastard bit her!_

_They're done for! Treaty's gone, it's over now!_

_She's dead to us now! The idiot brought it on herself!_

_Don't even_ think _about it. I'm gonna be the first to take out a chunk of that moron!_

_We'll kill them all!_

_Send them straight to hell!_

_There'll be nothing left!_

_We've been waiting too long for this!_

_Why the fuck are we still here then?_

Nicole slams her front paws on the edge of the ridge, spreading her jaws and releasing an ear-splitting howl. Every head snaps up, the pack link numbed by the sound as every pair of paws comes to an abrupt halt. I'm a statue in the corner, the shifter's fever infecting my veins while the disease of my wolf's desire pummels every drop of sane immunity from my skull.

The flames blaze around me, hotter and angrier than before, until I'm nothing but bone, muscle, and bared jaws waiting to tear and kill, and I have no doubt that I am made for this; that I'll slaughter each and every damn one of them, not in justice, but because I've finally seized my chance, and there's no going back.

Jacob scans the pack over, his body trembling with spasms and his eyes lit with a new spark of fury. He rises to the peak of his height, only risking the shortest glance down at Jared and the crazed white killer tremoring beside him before he points his head to the sky, his words a rumble of thunder in our heads.

_The alliance with the Cullens has officially come to an end. Today, all peace is broken, and the Cullens are no more than the enemy._ Jacob's eyes narrow, burning with the ferocity of the alpha while his muzzle pulls over powerful, ready jaws. _Today we're going in for the kill._

*Meanwhile*

A flood of motion surges out of the trees, bounding in a thundering cloud of angry heat toward Cullen territory. The mass of wolves charge through the forest, too crazed with temper and fury to take any notice of the small group of pale-faced figures watching their departure from the safety of a rounded hill.

Alec calculates, wearing a smooth mask of calm. He turns his head, and with a slight nod, dismisses the two cloaked figures waiting behind him. The first, a mountainous male, cracks his knuckles, baring his teeth in a venomous grin before flashing into the trees at a full sprint. The female, a mouse in comparison, turns with an elegant spin, drifting after him. Alec faces the trees leading into the heart of the rotting stench of tribal territory, pausing for just a moment.

"Won't you be joining us, Demetri?"

"Of course." The final vampire, lean as the blade of a sword, slips into the small patch of moonlight. He pauses a few steps behind the younger male, turning to the side. His crimson gaze meets another hidden my a curtain of darkness. "But not without giving a lady her proper show of thanks."

Alec waits in silence, unresponsive. Demetri moves towards the trees, seeming to float with grace. He extends a pale hand, his palm turned toward the open dark sky. There's a second of stillness before a feminine figure steps through the shadows and places her hand into Demetri's waiting palm.

Demetri leans forward to press a kiss into the smooth skin of the hand resting in his. He flashes his gaze upward just long enough to catch a glimpse of the striking beauty of the blonde before him, smirking at the blaze of hope and impatience in the hard scarlet of her eyes. She nods once to him, wordlessly darting back into the shadows and leaving the cloaked males alone.

Satisfied, Demetri returns his attention to an increasing impatient Alec. They exchange a glance of acknowledgement before darting into the green, disappearing in a flash.

Together, the four Volturi sweep through the forest in the dead of night, undetected, without a single tooth or claw in their way.

 


	66. Cry Wolf

[ **A/N** : Here we go! These are the final three chapters of Monster. A little warning—this might get intense for some of the more visual readers. So, expect the unexpected that you might already be expecting. ;] There's also a temporary switch to third person POV for intended purposes, so please be ready for that. See you on the other side!]

_"The screams all sound the same..."_  - Of Monsters and Men.

* * *

Chapter Sixty Six

Cry Wolf

* * *

We are red.

Not the red of blooming roses thriving under the warmth of golden summer rays.

We are the red of the final drops of life spilling from clean innocence. Heat, blistering heat, searing like a gleam of the sun's fiery death hurdled into earth, striking each heart and igniting a blaze raging with power and the jaw-dripping taste of a fresh, torn kill on hot tongues.

We are the jolt of adrenaline through wild veins, raking out every speck of sense, sending hearts beating backwards and twisting minds into a tangled churn of hate and lust so blindingly bright it splits ears and cracks skulls straight through the middle.

We are the streaks of motion charging through the hell burning around us, crackling in the treetops and racing along the ground like long, hungry licks of raw flame.

We are not made of one, two, or three.

We are a pack. A monstrous wave of power pummeling through the spaces between the mossy green of our burning world, frantic in the race to satisfy the gnawing starvation buckled through stomachs with a vicious, demanding crave.

_Fight._

I destroy the forest floor, opening the earth wherever it cuts through my path. A sea of churning shoulders, gnashing jaws, and closely packed bodies parts down the middle with a flurry of barks and howls, making way for my charge. The sky darkens above my head, a grey bed of iron devouring the last yellow spot of warmth in the sky with a single sweep. Daylight drowns, disappearing in the darkness draped above the treetops.

Poison rages, a fever cracking and popping in every nerve beneath my skin. Water sloshes over my paws as they press against the murky slime of the river, but the flame of the sizzling air sucks the dirty liquid in before it touches my coat. Wolves bound across the stretch of the river, blasting through the brick wall of separation between our world and  _theirs_. The tolerant peace shatters, tumbling over our shoulders, lost in the bubbling waves of black-blue water sprinkled like tiny crystals of glass.

A small streak darts in my path, crazed with the rampage around him. I pull back my muzzle, shouting a warning. A pair of wide brown eyes flickers toward me, popping wide. Clumsy paws scramble, but the reaction isn't fast enough.

I collide with the little wolf, knocking him flat to the messy spread of muck and torn grass. Whites roll in the sockets of his eyes, and a yelp rings through the muzzle. He crumbles beneath my paws, kicked and blown aside. A flash of icy blues turns my way, but there's no turning back. I brush them off with a snuff, bolting for the trees.

I blast forward with a howl, my voice carrying through the trees. A dozen echoes sound somewhere behind me, rising above the rolls of thunder far behind us.

Trapped in a furnace, hell rises on all sides. The black towers of trees peel, shot through to the stems in flame. Orange light reflects in my glassy gaze. My paws steam on the moss underfoot. Raw strength pumps through me, strong and real as instinct takes control. I tear my claws into the loam, charging the gates of hell itself with a baying cluster of death stampeding at my heels.

The dim light of the forest darkens further as the a faint perfume, so fucking sweet it's rotten, flies up my nostrils like an injection of acid. A static wave crashes from my skull to my ankles, cutting through skin and bone. My throat dries, the flavors of the forest sawdust on my tongue. A high-pitched wail pierces my ears as my eyes roll, struck with an onslaught of—

_A familiar hand, sure, steady, and tinted russet, shivers across a pale sheet of lined paper. Grey curls fill the blue lines from the tip of a pencil cracked deep through the center._

_'He held her there with a diamond ring.'_

_The hand pauses. Dirty fingernails grate the smooth table beneath. A thumb rolls, and the circle of a shining diamond ring, gold like streams of sunshine, falls flat on the paper. The hand raises, flexed and ready, before clamping shut and blasting through the wood. When the fist retreats, the damage scatters on the floor. A golden dust floats to coat the stripes of wood, shatter_ _ing_ _in_ _to pieces that won't ever find each other again._

I leap into the air, hurling my body a few dozen yards. I land with a strike of lightning. The pale flash bursts the shadows, sending them fleeing. My paws kick off, slamming the ground straight on. I toss my neck, snarling heated savagery as the world pulses, the forest releasing coatings of red, purple, and blue. The shadows fall back into place underneath the sheets of pouring rain, cutting me off from the fading yowls calling my name.

In the decent of darkness, another flash swallows my vision.

_Yellow irises, spotted with blotches of scarlet, train on my figure. A square jaw sets, and bruised lips move around soft words._

_"I'm going to help you, Jordan."_

_Broad shoulders roll. I blink, and there's a flash of dimples, followed by the silver glint of a blade whistling straight toward my frozen gaze._

I lunge, dead weight and channeled power, cracking a pointed branch clean off its trunk. I snuff, my nostrils blazing. My legs stretch, galloping hard and pushing, pushing, pushing toward my limit. My wolf prepares for battle, blinding cold relief with blinding hate until the edges of my vision collapse and I'm sprinting into a black tunnel of nothing.

_I open my eyes, standing barefoot and naked in a clearing. The grass is silver, dipped by the light of the moon, soft and swaying in a gentle August breeze_ _. From where I stand, I gaze straight at_ _an intimate moment between_ _two lovers, otherwise alone in their corner of the shadows._

_Something pulls me in. I feel the friction of their bodies, even tall on two legs and far out of reach. The man shows affection with his touches, turning fierceness into something fragile. I dig my heels into the damp earth, relaxing my hands in a cool breeze._

_I have to lean forward, but from an angle, I see the woman shielded by his body. Her neck rolls, and she's lost in passion as her breath hitches. Heavy lids relax, and a sense of calm seeps into her expression. The edges of the woman's russet lips turn up. Her heart rate eases, thudding along to the drumming in my ears. I fall into the beat, swaying as the scene rearranges, breaking and cracking before flying back together._

_I'm her. Flat on my stomach, I lay suspended across the smooth torso of sweet oblivion. A stone body fastens me to gravity again, tying me down to a world of nothing but_ _him and me._ _Once secured, the man tips his head just enough to find my waiting gaze. His eyes, warm like melted money, soften and swell with adoration. He smiles, carefully brushing away the tumble of black from my ear and filling it with the cool whisper of his voice._

_"I love you."_

My paws beat, slam, and skid in half a second. I jolt forward, thrown from my wolf and landing hard on throbbing joints in my human skin. There's a half-second to inhale before the agony of struggle swarms in, tying me to dangle on its deadly chains of torture.

I grit my teeth, my expression twisting. My solid mask melts as I lurch and roll and twist, digging my fingers deep into the damp earth. Rain patters on the line of my spine. I breathe in a shuddering breath and release it with an empty heave. Every nerve twitches as a searing crimson burns me alive.

_"GET IT OU-!"_

I wheeze, my scream lost in a bellow of thunder. My body arches in the mud, thrashing and turning until my naked skin holds a thick layer of brown. I catch the stray roots of a bush, welcoming the feeling of thorns embedding themselves deep in my palm. I force gusts of fire through my teeth, clenching my jaw tight enough to crack it clean off. Spasms shake me, hard and long and down to the bone, until my burning world is blurring out of shape and I feel myself being crushed out of my skin.

At the peak of the flames, I lift my gaze to the stormy sky visible through the curved arms of the treetops. My neck cracks, and the movement sets off a chain reaction. From the center of my chest, I split clean in half and leak heat from my skull. My face reddens, searing hot enough to melt from the bone. Crimson splatters from my dry lips, gushes from my nostrils, and trickles out of my ears. I blaze, my spine curving and my head pushing into a smear of wet leaves. I claw into the thorns, my knees driving further and further into the earth. With each jerk and spasm, gravity loosens another finger. I bleed the wolf, her poison a tiny pool of scarlet beneath my stomach.

The raging storm screams from somewhere far away. The world tips as lightning flickers, clashing with a boom of thunder. A white light ignites the world around me for a heartbeat, revealing the tall, steady statues surrounding me. I choke on dry nothing in a pathetic attempt to fill my pinched lungs. The pain is so fucking real that it almost  _hurts_.

Through a haze, I hold my eyes open as another second of lightning brightens the forest. I gaze at the muddy circle of paws around me, pressing in to create a wall of shuddering ruffs and huffs and puffs of wordless comfort. Their presence alone lightens the chains closed around my windpipes.

They speak the language these ears understand. Not through sounds and noises, but through the questionless look of patience in watchful gazes and the sturdy ring of support wrapped tightly around the unstable shape of me sunken into the earth at their center.

For the shortest tick of a second, the heat ebbs and my core tightens, grasping a loose thread of control. I seize it, filling my lungs with the wet taste of the forest. The circle of wolves loosens as I reel back and slam myself back into my wolf skin, jolting to my paws. The greyish-black forest buzzes static for a second. I huff, shaking off the chains of hell from my shoulders. My muscles settle, the knots of my body tying tight together. I breathe in, fanning out my senses and flicking on the twisted drive of instinct. My eyes flash clear open, darkened to blue-black against the white fur of my lupine face. My lips curve back as the disease whispers through my veins, the virus igniting my fires.

And with a grind of my jaws, I dive back into the charge at the head, the pack pushing hard at my heels.

I fly through the final stretch of night-darkened forest. Wolves follow the gestures of the male and female at my flanks, spreading out in the trees. I catch flashes of their pelts in the corner of my eyes, skimming the blackened trees and blasting through tangles of bramble. Distance slips under my long, steady strides like rushing water.

It only takes heartbeats for the stench of leech to infect my lungs once again. I break into a dead-sprint up a rocky hillside, my heart hammering out circuits of spiked adrenaline. Through the trees bordering the incline, I see the muscular tower of a male step into my path, raising his pale hands to protect himself. With a low, throaty chortle, I slash my jaws through him. He bursts into a cloud of dust, left to simmer and smoke under the beat of paws clamoring up the slope.

The mountains provide no protection. I can smell each and every one of  _them_  backed into the clearing, waiting for our advance. Bullets of rain bounce off my coat, as harmless as the howling winds. Thunder quakes through the ground, and lightning explodes on the pines, breaking the world wide open for our attack.

Wolves close in, charging shoulder to shoulder, stride to stride, snarl to snarl. My heart pumps,  _killkillkill,_  as the final stretch of pines zip by. I bunch my muscles, gathering every ounce of strength within me as I round the corner and lead the dozen bodies of raging thunder behind me into the open field for battle.

I take it all in at once as time pauses for one thump of a heartbeat.

Pale, solemn figures, white in the dark of the storm, stand ready. They guard a slumped tent behind their backs, one short. The yellow sun-fried grass matches the deadness in their sockets, hollow hope in their frozen gazes. They take in the colors of the pack approaching, every stare the same.

Except one.

From the back, a skyscraper of man sticks out like highlighter on cardboard. He holds a unique scent, different from the rest, and the white of his skin glows, bright and clear as a sun-lit pond. My gaze darts to catch a glimpse of his face, unable to resist. His irises are black ice in his hardened face, but they soften ever so slightly when they connect with mine. My heart stutters, curling knots deep in my gut.

A flurry of last-second thoughts spills into the pack link. I display a single collage of images: him, them, and the crack of bone in my jaws. There's an instant response-a brief touch of acknowledgement before each mind sucks out of the pack link and time starts to regain its pace.

In the final heartbeats, I wrestle strange pictures of golden eyes and the embrace of cold arms, breathing fire.

I'm Jordan Uley. He is Emmett Cullen. I am Jordan. He is Emmett. I am her. He is him. I am. . . He's. . .

_He's_  the scent blazing in my nostrils, cutting through my throat like the sharp silver edges of knives.

The tower of muscle is my target, waiting for me, provoking attack; challenging.

He's my target.

He's the hunter.

_No._

I'm the predator.

I'm the killer; I taste the metallic sting of salty red death on my tongue, so familiar it's a friend.

I'm the heat of a billion hells that bring me to the brink of pure rule and power.

I'm the wolf, and he's the demon.

I see  _it_ now.

I see it, and I know the bottomless pits of false emotion its hungry eyes.

Touches and kisses; cracks and snaps and hisses. Bleeding burns. The hollowness of my bones as warm golden saps my strength and bends my knees.

I see it in the demon, and the moment we lock eyes, I know.

The moment we lock eyes, I feel it. The jagged punch of hatred in my veins, so hot and real. The slashing and ripping as I'm turned inside out; twisted, remade into something different. Something unreal. What I really am.

There is no such thing as Jordan Uley. That's nothing but weak, spineless, pathetic excuse of a fighter; she's someone a heart that's foreign in wolf skin.

I am the wolf.

I. . .

_Ha! Jordan Uley._

_What a weak, pathetic fool. She's nothing._

_She's gone._

The white wolf tosses her head with a sharp snap. Her paws press into the dead grass, burning against the cold stone under her pads. She pins her gaze on the group of pale-faced vampires crouched before her, trembling prey beneath her towering might. In a heartbeat, the riling wolves will fall upon them and send them to their graves. The white wolf collects herself, bracing herself against the mountain as she sinks into a hunter's crouch. As she shifts, her gaze zeros in on the dark-haired male in the back. For a moment, her hot, blackened eyes find his.

And the moment they connect, the white wolf sees something she has been blind to before now: she sees the shining hue of scarlet swimming through the yellow, like a light of truth seeping through a maze of all of the fucked-up facades and lies buried with the person inside her.

As she finally sees, instinct breathes a whisper in her flattened ears.

_Kill him._

Shadows expand and swell, swallowing the world in blackness. Thunder booms across the open sky, followed by a flash of lightning that breaks the clouds in half. They open, spilling onto the mountains below.

The second the first drop splatters against the stone, a howl echoes a crash of thunder, and all at once the two sides meet in the middle, clashing in a feral, bloodthirsty brawl to the death.

The rough edges of the mountainside fill with a pressing weight of fever, fire and ice tearing at limbs and gnashing towards throats on impact. Grass flies as fast as burning-hot tempers, and lightning dances on the edges like the feather-light angels. The frenzied grapple collides in the center, neither breaking forward. Piles of fur and muscle crowd the space with spit-filled jaws, lunging for throats. Relentless bodies return with each kick and shove, thrown back again and again until the count of failed attacks leaves wet, five-inch streaks in the ground. The flap of the tent flutters, untouched.

Every minute rages beneath the storm brewing in the clouded sky. Neither side gives way, pushing and snarling and spitting, growing hotter and hotter with every sliding tooth and empty-handed strike.

Until from the center, a mountain of white falls back, creating the slightest hole in the center of the line. Panic zips through minds like wildfire as a honey-haired male rushes through the space, charging the lone she-wolf head-on.

As he steps forward, the white wolf plants her paws down, and with a slight jerk of her head, gestures a silent order. The hulking grey of Paul twists back with a snarl, hurling himself at the unprotected back of the male. He latches his teeth deep in the curve of his shoulder, yanking him to the ground with an infuriated screech. Two runts pivot and pour over the thrashing mass with vicious excitement.

The world morphs as the scene changes. Snow-white flashes dart through the clearing, guarding and grappling and shouting lost words through thunder. The world's almost pitch-black, but the white body in the center holds it together. The white wolf pummels herself into the skull of every wolf, dividing and driving. She spreads them out and ties them together, flashing the point of canines and putting power in the cut of claws. The demons scramble, spitting and scattering, but wolves sink through ankles and gnash at torsos before there's ever a chance.

Its dull colors are painted on the bright white of lightning and the motion of a fatal rhythm. The white wolf becomes the instructor, pushing and pushing and pushing. Demons fall, and she rises, higher and higher and higher. With every weakened cry, the white wolf paces closer to the slumped, rain-weary tent, her targets set and pointed while the storm drops closer and closer to the ground, mixing and churning and bursting with the struggle of the wolves.

Death chomps on the heels of the demons, threatening to drag them under with the slightest mistake. They dance on their toes, leaping and ducking and slashing their way against the tireless pairs of fevered wolves closing in around them.

As the white wolf comes closer, one dance falters. A brown head rises, nostrils flexing, tasting the faint flavor of smoke. Flecks of images spin worry in his head, distracting him from his dance. The white wolf watches from the corner of her eye, dragging the fiery female from her battle and directing her in a charge toward the brown male's opponent. The largest pair of partners, halt, necks turning away from the female backed to press against the stone of the mountain. Icy blues harden as the grey she-wolf tears away the brown's partner. Her ears perk, attentive. The russet beside her rumbles low, nodding his head toward the trees. They let the brown male bound into the trees before wheeling back on the female demon shivering on the rock, snapping at her fragile punches.

The white wolf's ears sing with spat hisses and flail of failing strength. The pack grows, closing each demon in a circle in the clearing and taking it out, chunk by chunk. Partners crouch back to back, their ravenous eyes coal-black as they stare into the faces of the end. The white wolf's veins pulse with instinct, but she wrestles it back, content to hear the agonized screeches of their final moments.

Her paws flow soundlessly across the grass. The wolf sinks into a crouch, prowling toward the open tent. The world folds away as her senses hone in. Stale, dry blood opens her nostrils while the flutter of a frantic heartbeat thunders toward its final moments. Lips pull back over ready jaws as the white wolf braces herself against the ground, her muzzle reaching toward the flap.

A body appears out of nowhere, flashing into the space between the wolf and the tent. The white wolf snarls, throwing her weight back as she prepares to strike. Her eyes roll, turning into a warm honey stare. Thunder grumbles, followed by a burst of brightness reflecting in the irises.

The white wolf pauses. She stands raised above the head of the male demon beneath her, her teeth bared and ready to sink through the thick neck inches in reach. The male demon chuckles half-heartedly, his stone body stiff beneath his mask of calm. He holds a steady stare into the white wolf's dark blues, his lips barely moving as he whispers through a gentle smile.

"Do you want this to be the end, Jordan?"

For a half-second, the wolf freezes. Her breath blows steam across the demon's face inches from the points of her jaws. Her heavy heart stutters in her chest, and the string of command slices in half. It drifts and floats before disappearing into nothing. The male demon's words tumble through her blank thoughts, loud and clear.

_"Do you want this to be the end, Jordan?"_

A blast cuts off the wolf's vision. Her pupils widen, dilating to cover her eye as a searing white replaces the world and a tornado whips through her cracked skull.

_Do you want this?_

_Want this to be the end?_

_The end?_

_The end, Jordan?_

Jordan.

_Jordan Uley._

_Me, her, it, him. . . Him._

_Emmett._

_We. . ._

_Us._

I suck in a breath through my nostrils, blinking away the red haze of the wolf. Her influence hovers, wrapping a thick shadow of control over my brain. The sting of venom mingles in my nostrils, and the pound of the kill throbs in my veins. I plant my paws against the stone of the mountain. My gaze drops, finding the waiting, hopeful stare of Emmett, his eyes following the skim of my own. He guards the tent with his body, his muscular arms thrown across the entrance. His hair sticks to his forehead, plastered with rain, and a jagged tear cuts the front of his shirt. He holds his breath, on the edge as my eyes wander back to his face.

I show the points of my teeth, a rumble spilling from deep in my throat. There's a flash of warmth in my veins as Emmett cracks a dimpled grin, nodding his head in silent approval. I twist and lunge with a huff, hurling myself into the battle of tooth and claw.

My jaws find the ruff of a thick black neck. I clamp my hold in deep, bracing my paws against slick stone. Sam growls a low warning, but I tear him clean out of his struggle and drag him to the ground. Whipping back around, I raise my weight up and bring it down, my neck extending as I snarl warning at the tiny 'sucker frozen in the clearing a few feet away. Her golden irises widen as she darts toward the tent, not needing to be told twice.

Sam finds his feet in seconds, snarling as he rams his weight into my side. Set steady, I counter his movement, throwing my dead weight into his shoulder. Sam drops with a yelp, skidding on the surface. There isn't a mark, but the shock of the rebuttal buckles his knees.

I find the runts a few strides out. Daniel and Jackson fake lunge and click their teeth at the honey-haired male, aiming for the missing chunk of his shoulder. Daniel distracts him from the front, snuffing and smacking his paws against the ground like a fucking moron while Jackson stalks behind Jasper's shoulder. He crouches, preparing himself before releasing a snarl and hurling himself at his target.

I find him in the air and knock him out of his lunge. Jasper dodges Daniel's lash, twisting around as I slam Jackson into the trunk of a tree with a crunch. His ribs crackle under the weight, his paws churning through empty air. I snarl above his cries until he silences, going limp. I lean my weight away and he crumples to the roots with a wolfish sigh.

Shaking my head with a snap and snuff, I twist my neck to shoot a warning in Jasper's direction. He's lips twitch, his black eyes lightened with amusement. He tips an imaginary hat before taking a quick step back and sprinting across the clearing toward the tent.

Curving back to face the clearing, I'm met with the glittering stares of the rest of the pack, their teeth showing as they creep toward me, infuriated. Over their backs, I catch a glimpse of the Cullens gathered around Emmett. They seal their wounds, wincing and grimacing while Emmett watches carefully, his arms folded across his broad chest. He never leaves the entrance of the tent, strong in his place.

The silent, demanding gaze of the alpha averts my attention. I lean back on my paws, raising myself to full height in defiance. From behind me, the little wolves whimper, their minds prodding the packs' for attention. The rain lightens, but another flash of lightning ignites the black clearing with the presence of the storm-soaked pack, their eyes lit with questioning rage. Jacob prowls forward with Nicole at his shoulder, his muzzle quivering as he sizes up my stance and raises himself higher.

_Have you lost your_ mind?

Retreating thunder crackles in the distance. The deep demand of Jacob's voice echoes beneath it, carried with the tone of the alpha. Nicole's silver body presses further into Jacob's side, backing up his words with a snarl. From behind her, another she-wolf snorts.

_Give it up_ , Leah mutters bitterly.  _She's been out of hope for too long. Maybe we should put her out of her misery._

Paul growls, snapping his jaws at the grey she-wolf, threatening. _Watch it, Clearwater. She'll take you to bits._

I flash curved white edges, shifting my weight from side to side, taunting. _What are you gonna do to me?_ I direct my gaze straight into the dark stare of the alpha male, barking a low laugh _. Come on, Jacob Black. Go right on ahead. Put me out of my sorry-ass misery._

Nicole growls as Jacob's teeth bare, his breathing heavy through the spaces. _Jacob, please. Calm down._

_The fuck is this?_  My tongue rolls across my teeth as I step forward, putting myself in clear reach of Jacob. He fumes, torn between the urge to listen and make reason and the killer desire to dominate.  _King Jacob can't hold the jewels to his crown? Go ahead! Do it._

Black eyes glint. Jacob draws back, readying himself, his paws slicing the earth beneath them wide open. Nicole falls back, her icy blues flaring with alarm. The wolves retreat in a slow, careful rhythm, all eyes set on the alpha as his control shrinks, smaller and smaller and smaller, until-

All at once, the pack falls on their flanks. I clench, hunkering down and holding my ground as the weight of the world tips and crashes down on the backs of the pack, a fresh wave of agony pressing us flat into the earth. Lightning bursts through the light sprinkle of rain, followed by the long, dreadful sound of a pained howl carrying over the trees, splitting ears and dragging whimpers through dry throats. I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking with the wind-worn pack as a flood of thoughts drowns out all else, jolts rocking through my muscles and pinning me in place.

_The sharp ringing fades into a low simmer, crackling with long tongues of orange, yellow, and red dancing toward the sky. Dry land blazes, the dirt streets and wood-built houses of the village set to flame. Smoke gushes from the top of the hill, covering the whole reservation in a layer of thick ash._

_And from the top of the hill, a small group of cloaked people watch through the glimmer of fire, their venomous smiles glinting in their reddened eyes._

The images flash into darkness, but the feeling doesn't end. The world quakes with the tremors of the bank, coats matted with sweat from the force of the pictures. I open my gaze and stare at the woozy blurs of color, mounds of wolves bent over in the dry mountain grass. I lean my weight on my haunches, forcing myself up as the weight of the burning torture folds my skull.

Finally, the rasp of Jared's voice crackles beneath the images, filling the blankness of the pack minds.  _The bloodline. . . the entire bloodline._

No other thoughts make it through. As sudden as his voice comes, it goes, blinking out like a light.

There's a heartbeat where the universe pauses, the world stops spinning, and time holds its breath.

Then everything erupts in a chain of motion and the flames spark and fly, rising from the ground and swallowing the pack whole.

I twist around and shoot back into the trees at a dead sprint, flying faster than ever before. Numb legs push tingling paws out farther, harder, quicker. I charge without hesitation, tearing through the forest without a second of nervous pause. Wolves stumble with shock, yelping and scrambling to keep up. I take point, my heart taking off with my speed, running like the strike of lightning caught in a rapid blast of the wind.

Panic surges through the pack, fueling their fires. I blaze the trail and the pack files in, rushing through towards the sour taste of consuming flames. The blast through wall after wall, taking each impact straight through my chest. The wolf stretches my core, rattling the bars of her cage.

With every stride, the air gets a little heavier, the winds a little hotter, and the world a little fuzzier.

Suddenly, a glaring ring interrupts the beat of paws and the huffs of muzzle-panted breaths. My numb legs shudder as the wet green of the forest blurs into watery smears of green and flecks of neon. Wolves whip past my torso even as my paws pound the earth, flying ahead one by one.

Everything's fuzzy, like a dream. The sea of yelps and barks fades away to a ring of creeping darkness. I force my legs to carry me farther, pushing and pushing and pushing. The forest leans to the left, bowing on one side. I can't feel my legs anymore, and my wolf howls, shouting fury at the sky. I hear each breath whistling into my nostrils in my ears, listening to them fill my lungs with tasteless fuel.

A pang in my chest stabs through my ribs with a crunch, flaring into my veins. My mind fizzes, unable to sort through the smears. I wheel, my paws slick on the nothing beneath them. I roll my neck back, suspended in the flare of white. My knees crack and my bones crunch, my jaws hanging open, heavy with the pool of spittle splattering from my rolling tongue.

I slam my weight forward, urging the wolf to hurry. I order her to run, grabbing the chain of command and yanking it hard, pulling the wolf to her paws and sending her flying.

She doesn't move.

Instead, the ground rises up out of nowhere, towering high above my head. I turn my twitching eyes skyward, wheezing thickly through my dripping jaws. The mass of smears and color crashes down on my shuddering body, sucking my legs through the soil and bringing me down cold.

 


	67. Delirium

_"I heard the world up, late night._   
_Holding my breath tight, trying to keep my head on right." - OAR._

* * *

Chapter Sixty Seven

Delirium

* * *

*Meanwhile*

Paul paces.

Back and forth, back and forth.

_Breathe._

Hard feet crunch over once-lush land that had been stripped to a bare, dead brown. Hot flecks of scattered ash float down from an endless block of smoke hanging in the air, touching rounded shoulders with a light hiss. Paul's fists clench, his nostrils flaring around the simmering fumes of lingering smoke thickening the air around him. Dead silence drums deep in his ringing ears. Paul releases a sour breath through spat curses and hacked coughs, his lungs polluted with smokey poison. Before he can inhale, his teeth grind and his throat constricts. Another spasm rips through him, rocking him through his bones.

Paul squeezes his eyes shut, pausing. He curls his hands at his sides. It takes him a few tries, but eventually, he drags a shuddering breath through his clenched teeth, filling his lungs with the heavy weight of the ruins around him.

_Damn smoke._

Down the dip of the slope where Paul paces, embers sizzle. A black coat of ash lies in place of the central tribal village, limp and lifeless. The pack ran straight into a blaze of reds and oranges, pulling out charred bodies and hacking, hunched shapes of burn-covered bodies from the middle of the flames. It was just in time for some, and horribly late for others. The pack pulled together long enough to pick up the pieces of the village and restore an uneasy sense of calm to the distraught survivors at least for the night. Somber, soot-marked faces and slumped, heavy shoulders file past Paul among their dismissal, offering a silent nod or clap on the shoulder as they pass. Some cough dust. Others wipe grime off trembling hands. The rest trudge straight toward the promise of sweet sleep without a glance, too tired to pay notice to anything around them.

Paul doesn't tire.

After tearing through the forest at a dead sprint and knocking the screen door clean off its squeaky hinges, he'd rushed to find his Rachel in a panic at the Black home. He'd buried himself in the smokey smell of her presence, worrying away at her while Billy sat back and stared through the foggy glass of the window, watching the last streams of smoke waft toward the white wash of moonlight over the pointed tree tops. The fires never broke through the forests, but the damage spread to every corner of the reservation, its devastation cutting scars into the safe blanket of security surrounding the tribe for decades.

Paul doesn't feel it.

Blackened eyes flash. Paul stops in the looming shadows of nightfall, holding in a stammering breath. Heat crawls down his spine like a million tiny pricks and needles. Calloused, flaming hands clench tight with frustration, popping knuckles.

The sweep of cloaks and snowy skin race behind Paul's heavy lids. Echoes of metallic, bone-jarring laughter knot in Paul's gut and bend his torso. Paul's nostrils scream against the sting of the fire's fumes, his head spinning. He grits his teeth, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly with his stuttering breathing. His hands reach out and clutch the hot, charred bark of a dead tree for support, and he steadies himself.

He knows damn well that the bloody bastards lit the fire.

Whether or not the Cullens aided the red-eyes in their scheme doesn't matter.

Not a damn soul in hell will stop him from sending each and every demon to their cells in the deepest bits of hell's fires. He'll take them all out, ripping open throats and snapping spines clean through the middle.

He could do it now.

Blowing out steam through dry lips, Paul clenches his hands in the crunchy black surface of the tree. His eyes flash open to the brown, dead ground beneath his dirty feet. Inhaling, he shakes away temptation.

"Wait for Jordan," he mutters lowly to himself.

Paul's lips curve on the edges. He pushes himself off the tree, brushing his hands on the torn fabric of his cutoffs. Jordan will be back soon. She'll step onto the peak of the hill at Paul's side and pull him away for just a while; just long enough for her to track them down and allow him his fair share of 'sucker scraps. The damned parasites will pay the price and then some.

Jordan knows real justice.

Rolling his shoulders, Paul turns. He tenses, his shoulders drawing high and his back muscles tightening. Instinct whispers, warning him, but the words are useless. Paul lifts his gaze without any sense of hesitation, meeting the pair of dark eyes set straight on him.

Jacob and Nicole stand before Paul. The dim light of night shadows their faces, turning their eyes into burning lights of worry. They stand close enough that their fingers wind together without any reach, and their chests rise and fall in sync with the matched pace of their breathing. Paul quirks a brow, smelling the stink of worry radiating off the pair of them. Together, the majestic power of the alphas evaporates. The leaders look alone, lost and separated from the rest of the world.

Paul senses the wave of grief rising high above his head, but he chokes back the questions and lets numb words roll from his tongue.

"I'm waiting for Jordan." Paul shifts his bare feet to lean his weight back, glancing between the empty expressions worn on the alpha's faces. "My next patrol isn't until daybreak."

The alphas answer with grim silence, their eyes hollow and mouths set in tight lines.

Alarm stabs through Paul's ribs and pokes at his racing heart. He knows the truth—he's known it for hours, sensing in the quiet of the pack as they work and the air of absence without the sensation of the unblinking gaze on the back of each of their necks. The pack knew when she fell flat on the forest floor behind them, losing herself then and there in the heat of panic. They knew it when her neck rolled sideways and she stilled. They knew it when she didn't break through the trees to join the group of half-naked shifters picking away at the empty blackness of the heart of their world.

Without words to voice what they all know, the stubborn voice in Paul's head rejects truth as it has throughout the hours, over and over and over.

But this time, it can't.

A weak growl builds in the back of Paul's throat, spilling through his lips. He fists his hands to hold back the spasms, struck sick with the heat of his temper leaking into his veins. Paul's burning gaze flickers between Jacob and Nicole, still like silent statues in the night. His expression hardens into a glower. The sound of his labored breathing fills the ticking seconds of silence spread between them.

Finally, Nicole's pale blue eyes blink and tighten. She slips her hand into Jacob's and turns to study his expression, waiting. Jacob's eyes make a lazy trail from Paul's heated fury to the quiver in his hands. With a deep-chested cough and a rumble to clear his throat, Jacob takes Nicole's hand in his and trails his deep-set gaze into Paul's. His eyes shimmer as he speaks, the words hoarsely muttered from his thick throat.

"Jordan is. . ." Jacob squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing through something felt somewhere deep inside him. He takes a minute to gather himself, pulling out a steady voice of confidence from empty air. His russet lips part over pristine teeth. A minute passes before the rest of his sentence comes through, inching Paul closer and closer to the edge.

"She's not coming back here, Paul."

Paul's breathing quickens. He floats, suspended in numb, burning nothingness. Paul casts a disgusted look Nicole's way, but she hides her face in the curve of Jacob's shoulder, avoiding his glare. Spitting huffs and puffs of poisonous air through his teeth, Paul steps forward, jabbing an accusing finger into the chest of his alpha. He breathes fury through his lips, feeling his insides churn and split as he turns inside out.

"You're  _lying_ ," Paul snarls. His breathing stutters, his forehead inches from that of his alpha, blank and responseless before him. Jacob's face blurs, buzzy through a wall of wetness clouding Paul's vision. "You're lying, damn it!"

Jacob curls an arm around Nicole's shivering figure, gently bringing her a step behind him. He shakes his head slowly, his chocolate eyes pinched. "No," he murmurs. "I'm not lying to you, Paul. She's gone."

The quiet words of the alpha slice open the pent-up rage boiling beneath Paul's skin, flipping the switch and charging every nerve in his body. He plants his shaking hands against Jacob's chest and shoves, once, twice, and again, forcing him back step by step. Each push barely moves the stone of the alpha. Disbelief and a sick shock of nausea sap Paul's strength. He roars, shouting through the lump in his throat.

"That's joke is fucking sick! Where the fuck is she? Huh?" Paul rams his shoulder against the mountain of the man before him, but he doesn't budge. Stricken with grief, he stumbles backwards, losing his breath in a whoosh. Paul's teeth slam together, chattering as his muscles draw together and begin to tear. The world swims, and he rakes his hand through his close-cropped hair, searching for a grip. His body pulls apart, shattering to pieces as he throws out his voice to the sky in a howl of rage.

Paul tears into his wolf, slaughtering the broken, blackened forest around him with the eruption of the change. Spit flies, and the whites of his eyes roll in his head. Two pairs of russet hands reach for his neck, but he knocks them away with a furious gnashing of his teeth. With heat popping in his ears and a drumming, urgent need for murder flashing through his veins, Paul charges into the dead of night, leaving a cloud of kicked ash to settle in his departure.


	68. Red-Flagged Rebel

_"This world will never be_  
 _What I expected_  
 _And if I don't belong_  
 _Who would have guessed it?"_  - Three Days Grace.

* * *

Chapter Sixty Eight

Red-Flagged Rebel

* * *

A world of white is calmer than a world of red.

Bathed in numb nothingness and suspended in a collapsed reality, I wrestle through the tangles of white, slashing my way to the surface.

Stripping the thin sheet of buzzing, empty nothingness from the surface, I push myself onto my feet in a different reality.

The world shatters, raining glass over my figure. I scan my surroundings, flexing each finger and rolling through the layer of muscle underneath my skin. My body clenches, on full alert and ready to spring into action at any moment. I brace bare, brown feet into the silky waves of snowy, empty nothing beneath them.

Raising my gaze, I peer into a tunnel of white. A flash of light blares, and as it dies, the walls of a cave curl overhead. I start, a snarl torn from my throat as I throw two quivering arms before me, my lip peeling over sharp, straight-edged teeth.

In the mouth of the cave, a few strides ahead of me, I see the fragile frame of a young girl, covered in a sheen of buzzing, street light yellow. With hair raven-black and pink lips turned up on the corners, I recognize the girl. Tension flares, contracting each trembling muscle beneath my skin. My gaze rests on the curves of the girl's thin shoulders as I take a soundless step toward her, the ends of my fingers curled.

I reach, extending a russet touch toward matching skin.

The girl giggles, sensing the breeze of near contact. Her neck twists, and with a jolt, I'm forced to see the marred hell of her face.

Her skin peels, rotting and clumping, nose crushed and lips torn to stretch across to the corners. Hollow circles, carved to a circle of empty sockets, turn up to meet blackening blues.

She screams.

Her voice pummels my core and blasts me into thin air. The world shatters, rock crumbling and dust floating. I trip, my gut somersaulting. I lurch back on my knees, roaring into the inferno unleashed around me. The world is searing, screaming, screeching white nothing. My head spins, pounding with the blood beating in my head. The air whisks away, churning flames and barreling winds clashing in the distance before fanning out to rearrange themselves in a new reality. I heave molten oxygen against this senseless, meaningless world around me before peeling open sticky lids to gaze into the settling blurs of shifting, sorting blacks and greens.

I blink, and the world clears to reveal a gentle line of trees. I rise, my feet numb to the cold mud beneath them. Towering black trees sway above my head, swathed in a coat of thick fog. A throbbing, nipping memory nags in the corner of my mind. I shake my head, ignoring the whispers of words in my head, and instead scan the fog, slanting black blues to peer through the opaque shapes of light, misty grey crowded around the wide trunks.

In the humid midst, the faint, flickering image of two people, one man and one woman, face me. A warning growl cracks the heavy, looming silence, and the pair statue themselves, becoming eeriely still. I see closed lips curved in simple smiles and the deep color of native-dark skin. Flexing twitching fingers, I advance toward the fog with the silent stealth of a hunter.

Fog spreads ahead and wraps around me. I step inside the mist, shoulders taut, wearing a mask of blazing concrete. Straightened, I stop to tower before the two figures. I assess them through a narrowed gaze, breathing steam on their light, smiling faces.

My heart stops.

The man, from his cropped cut black as his stubble and the woman, with icy blues too warm for their color, welcome my presence with a flicker of love gleaming in their irises. They pull together, a toned arm around a thin waist, and present themselves as one. The tower of me freezes, statue still. White puffs of hot breath push through the fog while burning blues glance between the man and woman.

The woman arches a brow. Her image statics for a heartbeat, and her picture-perfect smile falters. She breathes worry through her words as she eases the silence aside.

_"Honey, it's us."_  The woman pats the back of the man at her side. No sound follows the contact. She turns her mouth up, the fear in her eyes not matching the muted sound of what should be a nerve-fluttering pulse.

_"Mommy and Daddy,"_   _the woman tries, prodding._  Two silent sets of gazes train on mine, waiting while the quiet throws miles of walls between us.

Steady circles of chocolate brown measure the temperature blazing behind my eyes. A masculine hand wraps around the woman's thin hand while russet lips lower to her ear.

_"She knows," they murmur. "Just wait."_

I know damn well who they are, but no words roll off my tongue.

Electricity buzzes, thriving in the glass of gazes. The black of the forest towers high, and the chatter of birds in the trees, cawing and calling and going about life around them, silences. Flushed of warmth, I grit hard teeth and clench curling fingers, feeling the paling of my knuckles and the buckling of that hole burnt out in my chest.

A blush of cool, sunny warmth flourishes at first, but the rage of the wolf cuts it down. Whispers of memories tug at conscience as I peer deep into same pairs of eyes that loomed over me the day the world had been cursed with my grand entrance. I remember more than comforting strokes on the cheek and gentle hugs.

I remember the possibility of childhood-innocence dying in a twist of sheets, fading away under a roof that doesn't belong over my head.

I remember trying to breathe right with lungs full of fire blazed by tortuous years of not knowing.

I remember changing; bones stretching and temper poisoning the stream of blood beating hot under peeling skin.

I remember suffering hell alone, with a mixture of shouts and screams and empty cries that rise and fall and break, never seen or heard.

My wolf hates weakness. She gnashes angry jaws at the people before me, coiling her body in preparation for attack. I turn my head between the man and woman, disgust knotting my gut. I teeter in the blackness, deafened as a sick wave racks through my body and bends me forward.

_This isn't real._

I shove the murmur yanking at my conscience, shaking my head. I circle, prowling in a steady rhythm around Bradley and Sophie Uley. They seem to hover, grayed and disconnected. I squeeze shut burning black-blues and flash them open. Static flutters and settles, and the gray evaporates.

_"You don't have to say anything," Sophie whispers._  She's pained, avoiding my gaze as my advance turns and comes to a stop before them.

Those few words pull the trigger.

All at once, I break.

I'm screaming. The sound pulses outward, blasting the faces of them. My lips lift in a wicked snarl, and I'm dipped in hell. The tang of rotting, boiling flesh penetrates my nostrils, as if the heat of my storm fries them alive. Bradley curves himself over his wife, turning his head away from me. Blistering, words whip through the air, cracking sharp and real.

I channel years of rage and hurt and struggle at the bodies of the man and woman who bore me, lashing out with thick words tangled among the howls and snarls. Each word releases me, drawing the rope of reality a little closer to pull me in. I crumble, the tower of burning hatred that I've become breaking, until I'm on my knees in dirty, wet soil and my shaking hands latch on to a numb nothing to hold myself upright.

Finally, after the flames blink out, I swallow against the lump of dignity, my gaze set on the dark earth beneath me as I whisper a final call for truth.

"Why?"

Opaque shapes of breath cloud the still black. Russet hands curl into leafy mulch while spasms rip through bone, blood pulsing red, spiked with surges of adrenaline. Frosted with a sudden chill, the might of the unforgiving forest closes in, stalking closer, closer, until the blackness locks sharp fingers over my eyes, sucking away the warmth of reality.

Sodden soil digs under crude nails. Digging my hands deeper, I find a solid grip and flash my eyes open to the spotted black blur before me. Fuzzy and blotched with black and purple, they murmur soft reassurance, hovering at bay of the chains of shadows gnarled around my figure, lashing across my torso and dragging me deep into damp nothing.

_"Breathe," my mother whispers. "Breathe."_

Holding the light blue haze of my parents' presence in my eyes, I part cracked, dry lips and pull in a shot of air riddled with gritty stabs and pangs.

"Why?" I choke on the words, snarling a stubborn wolfish refusal. The shadows clamp on my wrists, twisting and struggling my body to the ground. I tilt my head up from beneath a weight of rock, squinting against the pressure of the sky bearing down on my chest. Through threads of red, the chocolate shimmer of my father's eyes meet mine.

_"This hell only exists inside your head," he utters. "Now_ breathe _."_

Struck by the familiarity of the deep bass rolling from a foreign tongue, I suck another gust through flared, itching nostrils. A snake of blackness coils and knots, circling my throat and binding me to the ground. I squeeze my eyelids shut, parting my mouth in a final scream. The ground rumbles, groaning as it begins to part at the center. An identical shout booms through the haze of nonsense slicked above me.

_"Come on, Jordan! Just one more! One more! You've got it now; you're almost there!_ Breathe _!"_

Thrashing, I twist my limbs, bend my spine, and slam dead weight. The shadows tighten their deadly grip, howling a hollow cry. Flames rage in my core, though the chill of the air restrains her inside the bars of her cage. My veins ignite, lit with heat that rolls like thunder. The world blazes as vicious flames lick long lines of hell on top of me. I blaze in agony, engulfed in a bitter taste of raw heat.

And all at once, the world quakes, splitting in two. My wolf howls, her powerful voice ringing clear over the deafening roar of the fire, broken loose. Reds and oranges swim overhead, bathing me in temperatures hot enough to explode and burst in my skull, peeling away my veins and melting my skin clean off white bone.

_I don't want this._

Battering blows of countered struggle plant punches deep in my gut. Cracks race across the cage of the wolf buried deep in.

_I don't need this._

My heart pumps frantically, beating out crimson from the punctured hole of agony sliced clean through. My body bows in the lonely black, curling on itself before my limbs lurch outwards, shoulders grinding in a backwards roll while my spine crunches and curves. The flames rage, a stampede of claws grating every nerve and picking the head of sense buried deep within my wolf apart in a frenzy of savage, relentless hunger.

_But I'm. Not._   _Her._

Spewing liquid hatred into infinite levels of hell, I throw thundering rage from my throat, releasing one final command.

_LEAVE ME!_

Time speeds, and the empty free-fall into the pits of the volcano halts as the skin-melting temperatures peak and explode. The inferno shatters, gutting me dry of struggle before chucking my body upward. I somersault through the swing of death's reaching fingertips, crashing on a firm surface. The force snatches my breath away, and I press face down onto the ground, splayed in a broken shape of struggle.

I swallow thin air, taking my fill of savory, clean air. Sweating out the wolf's rage, I put together the chipped and scattered puzzle of my senses together until the blackness spreads and separates into a flock of shrinking bright-colored dots. I suck in a rush of wet, green forest, air sprinting to my lungs. It stabs my senses, stroking away the shimmer of blurry surface waters.

I'm born into a world struck white, the glean clanging bullets against my closed eyelids.

The present forms slowly. I rest flat in smooth grass, my back curved against the earth. I'm alone at first, but with every tick of a second, another splotch becomes a shape and the fuzzy sprinkle of static stills to settle in a color. I focus on the  _in, out_  of breathing, letting time drag elbow by elbow until a masculine square jaw comes into view somewhere just above, followed by the muted motion of pale lips. Circles of topaz fuzz are somewhere overhead. I inhale a light taste of foliage, and with a squeeze, break open my eyes to the rainy green-grey of forest.

Reality settles with icy clarity. I peer skyward, searching for aqua blues, mossy greens, or cloudy greys. Instead, I find the face of a man, his brows creased and his mouth fumbling around strings of muddled words. I release a breath of fire from my lungs, dropping my gaze to meet panicked yellows. The man's square jaw pauses, his eyes shocked wide. His expression falters before a gigantic grin shatters the worry and I'm brought off the ground again, crushed in a circle of a warm embrace.

At first, I'm numb, as new and foreign as a newborn. I breathe, and the scene of the forest simmers in the slow burn of my empty lungs cranking out heavy, shuddering gusts of air. Feeling sinks into my burnt out nerves, clenching my gut and popping my ears. I fill my body inch by inch, twitching fingers and wiggling toes. I hold the shape of the frozen angel on top of me in my gaze, focusing in on him during the rise from hell.

He's on his knees, blue jeans ripped and covered with the wet green smears of nature stains. A ragged white shirt clings to his build, wrinkled over smooth, diamond skin and rounded muscle. A head of midnight hair sticks to his forehead, highlighting honey-sweet love trapped in the brilliant gleam of his irises.

The longer I watch him, the closer the man gets. He leans forward carefully, his knuckles pushed into the dirt beside my head. His mouth parts, and he blows out a soft breath, a tickle of cool relief across my skin. Flat against the damp earth, I do nothing but study every inch of him until he closes off everything around us and presses his mouth to mine, a fragile touch of careful intimacy.

The sensation of his kiss is exploding bursts of fireworks in my gut.

It's the sun breaking through the gloom through the tree tops.

It's the sparkle of a cold lake showing peeks of blue at the first breath of spring warmth.

It's a revival to a withering tree, strong and sure as the hand that untangles the roots of a gnarled tree and throws the trunk to its might, proudly towering high after double-struck lightning.

Some part of my brain reminds me of my hands. I spread my fingers, running dirty brown hands over ribs and spine to grip in the collar circled around a thick neck, drawing the body of love ever closer. We're nothing but touches and kisses, bodies molded together on a muddy bed of conquered death.

My heart whispers a passion-heavy murmur,  _Emmett_ , as he knits the final pieces of my sanity together and uproots the white flag of defeat, burning it away with the blaze of unexpected victory.

Beneath the hood of our separate reality, I melt into the ice of Emmett. He cools my flame and grounds me with the long, savored strokes of his silken mouth against mine. I breathe again, releasing woodsy air through parted lips. Although still blazing in their sockets, my eyes drift to a close, and I absorb the moment, allowing myself to  _feel_.

Behind a shade of black, a livid red flame coughs, and in its spark, releases a blow of magma-hot memories.

_Crackling tongues of orange rack through the pack link, coursing through pounding veins and crashing the sense of sanity in every system._

_The solidly formed group of lupine strength surging through the sea of open green, crying to the sky and gutting the somber quiet of the dusk with their panic, breaking apart as the heart leading the point of them stumbles._

_My heart fumbling in mid-sprint, choked by the strangling claws of the wolf grating against my human flesh, screaming through the voice of instinct and commanding my form to reverse and finish what I've started._

_I fall, sinking into hell while the battle chained in my deepest, darkest corners breaks loose, flooding every fiber of my being and bringing me down cold._

Fingers threaded in the silk at the nape of Emmett's neck clench. I snap back to reality, petrified by the shock of frigid air clamping around my throat. I nearly lose my form in the split-second it takes for my head to catch up with me, but I set my jaw and buckle down on impulse, pacing my gaze across the grey sky before they pause into the hardened honey beneath Emmett's furrowed brow.

I hold his silent question, my voice tangled in my throat. I relax each finger, one by one. A hand slips over Emmett's neck and curls against the side of his throat. It's then that I take notice to the sticky-wet crimson painted across my fingertips and scored down my arms in jagged gauges.

Reflex tears Emmett away from me as I burst onto my feet, throwing my arms stretched away from my sides. My breathing speeds with heat as I take in the seat of angry-red bumps travelling in clawed lines across my torso where I'd undoubtedly been attempting to open myself wide while the wolf turned me from the inside out. I tick my lip over a canine, bending beneath a crushing punch of adrenaline, my brain shifting against the roar of the wolf shouting defiance from her banished bed of chains.

Before I explode into oblivion, two soft hands clamp around my hipbones. I'm crushed against a stone chest and covered in a bowed embrace. Two smooth lips press against my ear, moving around satin words.

"Jordan, you need to calm down," Emmett breathes. His right hand glides relief over my exposed skin, touching the rim of the bra tugged unevenly across my chest before travelling back toward my hip. "Breathe."

The earth slices, parting around the grating drag of my bare feet. I ball my hands with a pop of knuckles, curving my neck to meet the down-turned attentive gaze centered on my face. I shudder, my heart drumming along with the pound of the wolf's second round of rebellion.

I shove sound through my teeth, forcing spluttered words into the mangle of spat heat.

"Pack. Where the _fuck_  is pack?"

"Home." The answer is immediate, laced with an urgent sense of calm. "Your pack left for the rez; they took care of everything. Everything and everyone is safe." An iron grip circles my waist while Emmett presses the back of his hand against my chest. My heart leaps, beating frantically against his touch. I feel the race, and the sensation of it dizzies me, teetering the trees, tilting the sky and tipping the earth.

The firm bass of Emmett's words echo into my ear, dragging focus in crystal clear. " _Breathe_. You can't stop on me now."

Fresh, rainy fuel seeps into my lungs. The storm booms a spasm of thunder, quaking my muscles. I curl burning hands over Emmett's arm, sinking against his torso while I falter just long enough to recover. I squeeze my eyelids and crack them open, drawing in a breath through flared nostrils. Reality stills once more, and my pulse slacks off ever so slightly before beginning a steady fall back into its normal thrum.

Swallowing against a sandpaper dry, I find the sense to force out another word. "How?"

Emmett shakes his head slightly, cocking his head to the left. After a moment, the pressure of his hand on my chest disappears, and a second arm loops over the first. With a gentle sigh, Emmett collapses against the solid trunk of a mossy tree, resting my back across his chest. I glance up at his falling eyes while his expression sobers with pure relief.

"I had to find you." His deep voice hums through my ears, like a silk blanket spread over a bed of brittle spikes. "My family needed to take time to repair the tent, and I couldn't distract Jasper-he had to keep Edward calm. I found you here, without your pack."

I scan the flattened shape of my body in the grass, only listening. Emmett inhales deeply, straightening his hands in an attempt to hide the quiver in them, even though I've felt it minutes ago when it began against the skin of my waist. A tick-tock of silence passes before the low whisper of Emmett's words resume.

"I. . . I thought you were dead."

The firestorm wreaking havoc in my veins spews liquid electricity through my veins. I twist my head, prying off Emmett's grip from my waist, stepping forward to stand alone in the grass. His words ring in my ears, punching spiked fists into my skull.

_Dead._

_Lost._

_Defeated._

From beneath leagues of water, I separate from the present and stare into the face of memory. The wolf howls, singing through the marrow of my bones. I feel her raw power coursing through every fiber of my being, the peak-point of my strength, yet the greatest of all threats.

_She_  has grabbed my heart when I turned my back to instinct, choosing to defend purpose over dismembering earnest demons.

_She_  is there inside me, always wrestling my conscience in a never-ending claw and tooth struggle for control.

The  _wolf_  operates from my core, but she lurks in every corner, coiled to strike whenever humanity grinds her gears the wrong way.

But that won't happen any fucking more.

The curling fingers of fog have blinded my eyes to the wolf's true intentions. The spirits of my parents dwell somewhere in the shadows of my head, carrying me forward with gentle words and a sense of ease. Opening the inferno buried inside my head burned out the poison, and now, with my vision cleared

I  _see_.

Lifting my head, I fix my stare on the straight tower of moss-covered trees. Reality settles in place, stone-set and unmoving. A little curve turns the corner of my lips. Emmett's presence looms a few paces behind my back, there and strong, the grounded anchor holding me to earth.

_We've made it._

I twist around to peer over my shoulder, but there isn't a waiting gaze. Tense, Emmett's narrowed eyes drift deep into the forest, his posture bent into a defensive crouch and his nostrils flared. Every muscle bunches beneath my skin while I throw my senses out into the open, but the thunderous beat of heated paws rocketing toward us hits my ears a second too late.

A grey hulk of muscle and predatory savagery tears through the trees, whites of eyes rolling with uncontrolled rage welled up from deep down and spittle-dripping jaws reaching for the bared side of Emmett's porcelain neck.

With a duck and pivot, Emmett dodges the points of snapping, gnashing teeth and deflects the lunge of spread jaws with his balled fist. The giant form of blazing wolf strikes his paws into the earth, wheeling, ripping sod from the earth as he comes around again. Emmett bounces back on his heels, baring teeth glistening with a sheet of venom at the attacker. His eyes darken over, burning with instinct. He crouches low, his hands hovering over the earth and his body lowered before he pushes off the earth and sprints into the come-around of the wolf to meet him head-on.

Wolf and man meet, teeth grating diamond skin to pull apart and hands slashing through pelt to batter breaks on bones. They grapple in the dirt, a tornado of angel white and grey wolf mixed in the churn of earth and the storm of snarls, spits, and snaps thrown at the other.

In the half second it takes for the attack to begin, my heart lurches, and I tear across the earth. With a duck of my body, I bend myself between the firey flesh of wolf and the hard winter of Emmett and rise between them, striking a wedge between the attackers. They fall back with a start, blinking away the haze of heat while they thud on their asses, dazed eyes squinting at the woman heaving angered heat between them.

I turn to Emmett first, skimming his body for any sign of damage. His shirt hangs in loose tatters over his torso, and scrapes of teeth cut across his collar, but he bears no injury. He tips his head back to peer up at me while the confusion fades, and an apologetic half-smirk hesitantly creeps across his mouth.

"Don't look at me. He started it."

Emmett's gaze directs my attention to the wolf rising from the ground on my other side. I roll quivering shoulders, demanding his attention. Shaking clumps of muddy grass fall from his pelt, the wolf lifts his head and meets my steady, waiting stare with the dark browns of Paul.

His body freezes, and he jolts with surprise. The threatened curve of his lip drops as the wolf jerks backward as if faced with a breath of plague, a shocked yelp spilling from his mouth. I raise a brow, catching the barely visible trembles in his muscle. Panicked, the wolf bows toward the ground, baring his throat in a wary statement of lupine submission.

Chuckling under his breath, Emmett finds his feet behind me, resting a gentle hand on my hip. I hold my ground tall in front of him, setting my jaw while my head carefully collects words from the tangle of nonsense tearing my skull to bits. Paul risks glances up at the pair of us towering above him, blinking under the strain of holding my temper-heated stare.

Finally, I find words through an inhale of Emmett's scent.

"If you plan on laying a single look on  _him_  again," I hiss, seething at near breaking point. "I'll rearrange your fucking skeleton."

The sound of my voice passes through my lips in a low tone, whipped across the air and wound into Paul's brain with order that can't be defied. My heart thuds against my ribs, pulsing a slip of temper into my veins. The cooling ease of Emmett's chest pressed against my back holds me in.

Reluctant, the grey wolf scrambles to his paws and retreats pace by pace, stride by stride. His gaze flickers between the two of his, reflecting the toffee-plaster contrast of our skin. Backed into the trees, the wolf tilts his head, eyeing my chest where my pulse beats, unmistakably alive, even if altered.

I speak again through authority's voice, unwavering. "I'll get to you later." I jerk my chin to the brush. " _Go_."

Snuffing through his muzzle, Paul twists around and slinks into the forest with panther-like stealth, the weight of his watching eyes evaporating as he disappears into the night-cast shadows.

In Paul's absence, I center my attention on the man pressed against my back. His honey gaze already rests on my face, admiring the spark of heat fading from my expression. He beams down at me, keeping his hold wound firmly around my middle.

"What's my sentence?"

Twisting in Emmett's muscular arms, I steady myself flush against his hard torso and wind a steady hand through the short cut of silk on the back of his head. Place a warm kiss to his chin, I breathe. "You're off the hook. Consider that my 'thank you.'"

Cold lips press against my forehead. Emmett's hands grip my hips, checking my balance before he runs icy fingers along the trench of my spine. I soak in the comfort, allowing him to loosen the frustration clenching my twitching muscles. He breathes in my scent, running his hands toward my shoulders.

"Does this mean the damage is done?" he murmurs.

"I'd be damned." I rest my cheek on the curve of his neck, shutting my eyes against the chill of his skin. "I sure as hell shut her up for a good while."

Emmett rests his head over mine, bringing me into an iron-tight hug, leaving no curious space between our bodies. Engulfed in his embrace, I shut off my guard, dropping the walls of focus. Emmett's hands glide past my spine while my fingers catch in his hair. His touch hesitates at the small of my back while my eyes fall shut. With a soft breath, I contract my senses and free-fall into the warmth expanding in my chest.

A lazy summer haze drifts over our heads, bringing us away from reality as we connect at the core. Color flashes behind my lids, shaping to form a memory of us, together, in the most intimate of moments. I feel ourselves bonding, the rope yanked to a knot. My heart skips quadruple beats while my breath catches in my throat.

There, in those trees, folded together with our heads bent and our hearts singing to the soaring sensation called love, we evolve and connect on a new level. The empty hole in my chest seals with Emmett, banishing the wolf to retreat tail-tucked in her cage while the warmth expands in my heart and head.

There in those trees, I'm no longer alone; there in those trees, the wolf reluctance shatters as she's forced to accept that this war has become two to one.

While the memory runs its course, my hands find Emmett's, curled between our chests. I allow the final moments of the memory to fade before I open my eyes and stare straight into love.

Emmett's expression eases, his lips touched up with a gentle smile. Unrestrained love swims in the honey-liquid of his eyes. His cool breath skims my face as he collects himself enough to speak.

"We could leave," he whispers. Something new ignites beneath his tone. "We could  _be_  that."

Loyalty tenses in the center of my heart. I've shed the chains, but the scars of them seal with a branding need to serve my wolf's duty. I smile slightly, speaking lowly for his ears only.

"I have to go, Emmett."

I wait for a flash of disappointment, but the same sheen of understanding lays on Emmett's expression. He ducks his head, placing a fragile kiss to my mouth, lingering for nothing longer than a moment. I exhale warmth as he pulls away, prying my eyes open to meet his look once more.

"I love you," I say. And this time, those three words fall like a hammer, rooted through my being with certain meaning and not a single ounce of question.

Before temptation can lure us into games of oblivion, I draw out of Emmett's hold and head toward the bramble cut by Paul's retreat. Steady eyes follow my exit, until I push back the tangle of brush and lower my head to duck through.

"Jordan?"

Glancing over my shoulder, Emmett finds my eyes one last time. He demonstrates a smile, a trace of light gleaming in his eyes.

"See you at sundown."

Reflecting the love in the curve of his mouth, I laugh under my breath and nod my agreement. "It's a date."

And with the line of my departure spoken, I dip into the forest and put trust in awaiting love.

Emerging onto the muddy browns of the riverbank, I step in beside Paul. His body relaxes ever so slightly, though his dark eyes remain fixed on the churn of bubbly rush separating the world of two enemies. I study him, taking note of the shaggy length of black locks reaching down the nape of his neck and the aged hardness resting over his stone expression. Wrinkles cover his forehead, and his brows pull over drooping eyelids.

He's doing a sorry-ass job of pretending that he isn't tired as hell, but nobody would call him out on it.

I release a brittle breath of heat and break the quiet with a tone of business. "Damage report?"

Paul's throat expands with a rough swallow. His hands clench at his sides, and the reflection of the current expands in his fury-swollen pupils.

"The village . . . it went up in flames. We dragged out the bodies. There were a few dozen of them limp, eyes open and burnt to a crisp. The rest were banged up pretty damn good. There's not a whole lot left other than the ash."

Feeling my pressing stare, Paul rakes a hand through the crop of black on his head, blowing frustration through his nostrils. "It was the royal 'suckers who did it. Jake and Nicole sent Sam and Embry out after we cleaned up, but they were just . . . gone. Not a single fucking scent left. They fried our people and took a run for it."

The words mix with the flare shot through my skull like water and oil, processing slowly. I inhale the scent of petrichor on my burning skin, speaking through the release of dry heat. "And our numbers?"

Paul's eyes drop to the water skimming the line of the bank, letting the chance to tease with sarcastic offence pass. "Jared hit the ground when he saw the flames, but Kim's got him all taken care of. The rest of us don't have a single mark."

The reassurance settles the skipping rhythm in my veins. I stand beside my pack mate in mute silence, the two of us pillars of unspoken exhaustion beneath the grey break of dawn. The soft sounds of morning tinkle through the quiet forest. The whipping whirl of the wind declines to a steady spin, allowing a sober peace to filter through our kingdom.

After a significant pass of time, Paul shifts his weight and mutters through his teeth. "I s'pose you're gonna run off with him now."

Amusement turns up on the edges of my mouth. I scan the trickling water inches from my bare toes, absorbing the natural calm of it. "I have work to do."

My words ease the final knots of tension from Paul's body. The reluctance evaporates, and Paul cracks a grin, his gaze jumping to the side of my face. "Like what?"

"Business." I glance to the side, meeting his gaze, bright with a gleam of harmless curiosity. "We have a village to build up. Asses to kick. Hell to bring down. The usual."

Paul chuckles. "Guess that 'we' is an open invitation for a badass sidekick?"

"Like hell I need a fucking  _sidekick_  on my ass." I snort, leaning back to peer straight into Paul's eyes. "That's what a badass friend is for."

Paul's grin spreads wide over his face, erasing all signs of previous tension and exhaustion. His chest puffs slightly. "Betcha this badass friend can empty Sam's kitchen ten times faster than—"

Before the rest of his sentence leaves his bragging lips, Paul crashes into the mucky of the river, exploding to the surface nearly simultaneously in the skin of his wolf. Spluttering murky liquid from his lips, his head snaps up to the sleek face of a white she-wolf peering down at him, the clear gleam in her eyes lit with playful challenge.

_Bring it - everything you got and then some. And I'll still kick your ass._

Together, the howling beasts lunge into a sprint through the vast, open expanse of their home without a flame of temper disturbing the cool sense of long-awaited peace above their heads.

This sounds like a sort of happy ever after. Something to smile at. I smile now as I head into the forest, unable to stop myself. But the two of us know better than to think this is really the end.

And to hell with doubts. I might carry a monster in the depths of my eroded soul, but I am not the monster. I am Jordan Uley. I have proven that in this life, it is possible to beat out nature. It is possible to fight through the darkness of this world. Even those who lose themselves still can fight to find themselves because the world is only full of obstacles; obstacles thrown out to be passed over.

After years of dead ends and upside down reality, clarity rings as true as the solid sense of near-freedom in my veins.

The fears we can't conquer, the pain we can't erase, and the battles we can't win are made up inside our heads.

Love is Emmett experiencing the heat, bearing the struggle, and feeling the rancid breath of demons down exposed necks. Love isn't in the clenched buckle of frustration and invisible sweat on marble skin. The love thrives in the warmth of adoring eyes and the guidance of a steady hand through the battle of surviving my hell for another hour longer with nothing but enough strength for one more step on his tongue.

And finally, hell is pretty damn hot. But there's always some kind of angel out there ready to turn worlds upside down, for better and for worse, through the sickness twisting minds and the struggle to find the person buried somewhere deep down there. In the end, the angel makes the monster's burn bearable, taking a step back from that edge, bringing reality another pull into focus.

As the pieces come together, the scarlet-stained future of a killer blurs out of focus, fading into the swirls of lights and darks, changing, folding and opening with every twist and turn. A rebel's flag rises, firm and steady alongside each step of the path that lies ahead.

I am Jordan Uley.

And this is how my battle begins.

**{**   **The End**   **}**


End file.
